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highfunctioningflailgirl · 3 months ago

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Damage Control - 2x22 All Hell Breaks Loose (Chapter 2)

“You’re damn right we got work to do! But we gotta fix up that head of yours first.”

Ellen throws a stern glance at Dean across the closed trunk of the Impala. The kid’s all gung-ho and determined to rock and roll, and - sure - they got a hundred or so demons to hunt down and send back to hell. And after what she just learned, he’s running out of time. But John Winchester’s eldest is also pale as a sheet against the blood smeared across his forehead, and, doomed or not, Ellen’s not gonna let him walk into battle with an open head wound.

As expected, Dean tries to ward her off. “It’s nothing, Ellen. Just a cut. We’re only losing time. The sooner we find-“

“Shut up and sit down!” Ellen grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him against the Impala, forcing him to half-sit on the trunk. “Lemme see this.”

Surprised, Dean catches himself against the slippery metal and tries to get back up.

“Ellen! Seriously, this is completely un-“

“I said shut up and sit!” The kid may be six-foot-something with shoulders twice as broad as hers, but Ellen keeps him where he is with both hands and a glare that she’s perfected in her twenty years of raising Jo.

And indeed, Dean closes his mouth just as quickly as he opened it, cowering just a little as he loses the staring contest with her.

“Uh… yes, ma’am.”

Ellen hears chuckling and a snort behind her, and when she turns her head she sees Sam and Bobby hiding amused grins. They’re clearly both still burning off an adrenaline high. Sam especially must be riding a rollercoaster of emotions, not knowing where to land yet - in triumph over defeating the Yellow-Eyed demon, or in despair over the fate of his brother. In any case, mollycoddling any of them isn’t going to help matters.

“What are you two chuckleheads waiting for?” she barks at them. “Is anyone gonna fetch me a med kit or what?”

Her tone sobers them up immediately. While the two men scramble to do as told, Ellen releases her grip on Dean’s shoulders and examines his head. Obedient now, he lets her run her fingers through his hair, around the wound and across his brow, pressing here and there to check for fractures. Dean is as stoic about it as they come, obviously having attended the John Winchester School of Being Brave. Fortunately, nothing gives or shifts, and the swelling around the jagged gash is minor, but the wound itself is deep and still bleeding and won’t heal well on its own.

“This needs stitches,” Ellen observes, calculating. “Four or five at least.” Dean’s cheek twitches as she angles his head to get a better look. “But I’m gonna need better light.”

After years of patching up injured hunters at the Roadhouse, she prides herself on her field medic skills, but dawn is still a while off and it’s as dark as a donkey’s ass out here. Although she’s not one to give a damn about beauty standards, she doesn’t want to be responsible for leaving another ugly scar on Dean’s annoyingly young and handsome face, and he’s already got a faded, old one zig-zagging down right next to the new wound. And a flashlight - even their heavy duty ones - isn’t going to cut it.

“We passed a motel a few miles back,” Bobby offers, back with the first-aid-kit. He sets it down on the trunk. “Might as well fix ‘im up there and get some shut-eye before we head on to my place and regroup from there. I could use some grub, too. ‘t’s been a night!”

“No!” Dean protests. “Those demons could be anywhere until tomorrow! Who knows how many people they’ll possess until then? We can’t give them any more of a headstart than they already have - Ow!”

He flinches when Ellen slaps him up the back of his head.

“Listen, sweetheart,” she tells him, not at all sweetly. “You may be on a deadline with that stupid, stupid demon deal hanging over your head.” She emphasizes her words with an extra glare, still incredulous of what she overheard. “But we’re not going to wing this Winchester style and get ourselves killed. We’re going to make a plan and stick to it, you hear me?”

Rubbing his head, Dean scowls at her, but he doesn’t dare talk back.

Good for him.

“Sam?” Ellen looks at Dean’s brother for confirmation. “You with us, kid?”

John’s youngest curls a malcontent lip and shuffles his feet. After everything that just happened, and after what he just learned about his brother, the kid is visibly itching to put all that angsty energy to good use. Still flooded with adrenaline, all he wants to do is hunt. Ellen has seen this before, countless times. Dammit, the boy reminds her of her own husband, many years back, when she met him - stubborn and impetuous, with good instincts but too many emotions to keep a cool head. Jo got that from him.

Torn, Sam looks at Dean, and maybe it’s the paleness of his brother or the blood still dribbling down his face, but he eventually gives a begrudging nod.

“Yeah, alright. Let’s take the night.”

“Good.”

Decision made, Ellen pulls a few gauze pads out of the med kit and tapes them tightly over Dean’s wound while Dean practices his stoicism. It doesn’t have to be pretty for now. They just have to stop the bleeding so she can sew him up neatly at the motel. She twists an instant cold pack in her hands to activate it and places it over the bandage, lifting Dean’s hand to hold it in place.

“Here. Keep pressure on this,” she instructs. “You good?” He’s gone a little peaky, and when she lifts his chin to look into his gosh-darn pretty green eyes it takes him a moment to focus on her.

“Uh… yeah, I’m good,” he stutters, pulling one side of his mouth into a laborious smirk. Ellen blinks. With his full lips curled like that, the smattering of freckles across his nose and refusing to go cross-eyed in spite of the pain, he suddenly looks a lot like his father when he was younger.

“Uhm, Sam?” Ellen shakes the resemblance off and addresses the other Winchester who, with his lanky height, tan skin and puppy dog eyes, must be taking after his mother’s side of the family. “Give your brother a hand? We’ll take the lead.”

She waits by Dean’s side until Sam takes over, hooking his brother under the arm and helping him into the Impala’s passenger seat while Dean swats at him and swears that he doesn’t need his help.

Smiling, Ellen shakes her head.

Boys.

“Ready to roll?” Bobby has cleaned up the gauze wrappers and stores the first-aid-kit away.

“Yup. Let’s go.”

The Impala rumbles to life behind them, its headlights piercing the night when they climb into Bobby’s truck. Ellen exhales when they roll out of the clearing and reach the main road, leaving the abandoned farm and the Devil’s Gate further and further behind them. It feels good to get away from this godforsaken place.

xxx

Dean’s got to admit that Ellen’s good at this. A towel over one shoulder, he tries to sit still while Ellen puts in the stitches, and she’s quick and neat about it. Whenever he can’t help flinching, she gives him a moment, her cool hand cupping the good side of his face to steady him. It’s a motherly gesture, and he finds himself wanting to lean into it - such unfamiliar care that he only remembers from his early childhood days.

“Okay, hun?” She asks each time, her voice both rough and gentle, until he nods and she continues.

While Ellen patches Dean up, Sammy lugs in their bags and salts the windows. He seems okay, considering everything they’ve gone through in the last twenty-four hours. In the car, on their way to the motel, Sam had focused on driving and staying close behind Ellen and Bobby, simultaneously keeping an eye both on Dean and on their surroundings. With all those demons let loose, an attack could happen any minute.

Along the way, they’d stopped at a Drive-In, and now Bobby is opening food containers, revealing burgers and fries, along with some tofu abomination for Sam. Dean’s stomach flips at the smell, although it’s probably not Sam’s weirdo diet that’s making him nauseous. He hit that gravestone head first, and the way the ugly motel room wobbles around him tells him he’s got a concussion to walk off in the next couple of days.

“You need to hurl?” Bobby asks him, matter-of-factly. He’s suddenly appeared in his line of vision, holding out the trash can from the bathroom.

“Dean?” Ellen takes a step back from her work, needle and thread in her gloved hands, studying him intently, and he wonders how green he’s looking around the gills.

“I’m fine,” he claims, out of habit, and waves Bobby away. Then he gestures at his head. “Are you almost done?”

“One more.”

Dean closes his eyes and swallows as the needle slides through his skin one more time. A final pinch and pull when she ties the last knot and cuts off the excess prolene thread. The cool hands return to tape a bandage over the sutures. She gently smoothes out its edges.

“All done.” Ellen snaps her bloody gloves off and eyes Dean critically. “You alright, cowboy?”

Fingers trembling a little, Dean runs them over the bandage. The wound stings angrily under the gauze, and his head really hurts now, but he guesses he’ll live.

“Yeah. Thanks, Ellen.”

“You’re welcome.” She pops an orange pill bottle with prescription painkillers open and hands him two tablets along with a glass of water. “Here. Take two of these.”

Dean scowls at the water. “What, no beer?”

Ellen huffs disapprovingly, and before she can slap him again, Dean accepts the glass and swallows the pills. Then he scoots back against the headboard of the bed he’s sitting on and leans against it, tiredly tipping his head back. Demon invasion or not - now that the adrenaline has worn off and his head is pounding, he just wants to stay here forever. Or until his year runs out and they drag his sorry ass to Hell.

Ellen disappears from his side to join Bobby at the rickety table to eat. In the background, a staticy newscaster voice is babbling from a shortwave radio, set to a local news station. Of course, Bobby wants to keep an eye on any omens popping up around them - storms, weird deaths, strange phenomena. So far, nothing undue seems to have been announced; Bobby and Ellen look alert but relatively at ease as they eat their meals and enter into a conversation Dean can’t quite get the gist of, a cottony feeling starting to cloud his brain.

Oh. The pills.

Ellen must have given him The Good Stuff, and he’s grateful. Right now, he doesn’t want to think about what lies ahead. Right now, he doesn’t care all that much. Finally admitting the truth to Sam about the demon deal had been painful, but also liberating. There was relief in that. And a year was a long time.

Sam plops down on the bed beside Dean, with a fresh cold pack that he hands to him. “How you feelin’?”

“Okay, I guess.” Dean gingerly holds the cold pack to his head. While the pills are already making him feel fuzzy, his headache is only just starting to dim.

Sam points at the food on the table. “D’you wanna eat?”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Maybe later.”

That gets him a worried frown. “You do have a concussion.”

Dean just shrugs.

Lips pursed, Sam studies him for a minute, then he seems to decide against a lecture on head injuries. God knows they both know the drill by now. Folding one long, angled leg over the other (the kid should have become a contortionist), Sam repositions himself on the bed. His face softens.

“Listen, Dean,” he says, voice solemn. “What I said back there, in the graveyard, that I’d have to save your ass for a change - I meant it.”

Immediately, Dean squirms. He’d rather not have a moment with Bobby and Ellen as an audience. However, when he looks over Sam’s shoulder, he finds them at the other end of the room, at the kitchenette, engrossed in their own conversation, and the radio is still blaring.

“I know you did.” He shrugs one shoulder and the corresponding eyebrow.

“No, you don’t.” Sam pats one palm on the bed, twice, for emphasis. “I know that you say you believe me, but somehow I fear-” He pauses, groping for the right words. “I fear that you don’t think you should be saved. After Dad gave his life for you, you said you were dead, and that you should’ve stayed dead. I just… I don’t want you to think you somehow deserve this - to go to Hell.”

“Whoa!” Dean lifts the cold pack from his face and stares at Sam, one defensive palm raised. “Whoa, Sam! Where the hell is this coming from?”

Sam runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “Look… First you kept this from me - the demon deal. And now I have this feeling in my gut, like you’re pretending. You’re just going through the motions or something. For me.”

Damn, the kid is psychic. He’s wrong, of course, but not by much. Dean doesn’t want to go to Hell. But he knows there’s no way out. If they try to break the deal, Sam will die. And he’s never going to let that happen. Not over his dead body.

“Did Yellow Eyes crack your grapefruit or mine?” Dean asks, going for humor.

“Dean…”

“No, seriously, because you’re talking absolute nonsense!”

“Am I?”

Jeez, he’s giving him the watery puppy eyes now. “Yes!” Dean presses the cold pack back against his temple. He’s tired and his head is swimming from the pills and he really needs this pointless conversation to be over. “Now cut the crap and let me sleep. We gotta hunt tomorrow, remember? And save my ass?”

“You guys need a divorce lawyer or something?” Bobby has appeared next to Sam, beer bottle in hand, and Ellen is looking over at them with knitted brows. Dean has no clue how much they heard, but it must have been enough to attract Bobby’s attention.

Sam locks eyes with Dean. It’s an x-ray stare, questioning, scanning him for the truth. Dean holds his gaze. It’s a silent conversation, about trust and brotherhood and about keeping this between the two of them.

Let it go, little brother. Truce.

Finally, Sam’s eyes swing away. “No. No, we’re fine,” he tells Bobby, and from his tone Dean knows this discussion isn’t over. “Dean just hit his head a little too hard. His brain’s scrambled eggs. He should rest. Why don’t we call it a night and meet here again tomorrow morning, come up with a plan?”

Bobby’s clearly not buying that everything’s fine, but he knows better than to pry. “Alright,” he says, throwing them both an ominous, get-your-shit together look. “I’ll bring coffee.”

Ellen comes over and points from Sam to Dean. “You’ll keep an eye on him? Wake him up every-“

“..hour, yes. I know the drill,” Sam interrupts impatiently.

From his bed, Dean adds a little wave and a crooked smirk that he hopes doesn’t look fake. “‘Night, you two! Keep it down next door, will you? The walls are thin.”

With a synchronized eye roll, Bobby and Ellen head for the door.

The truce holds when they’re finally alone. Before Sam turns in as well, there are doubtful side glances at Dean as he cleans up the food containers and washes leftover beer down the drain. Sam’s still not trusting him, and it’s going to be hard to keep this charade up in the months ahead - to let Sam try and save him while also preventing him from doing so. It’s going to be hard, period.

But neither death nor Hell nor Sam’s spidey sense are anything Dean wants to worry about right now, and, thankfully, the painkillers are helping with that. While Sam putters around the room, leaving him in peace, Dean lets himself fall into the comfortable haze of the drugs and barely notices the cold pack slipping out of his hand as he dozes off.

The Damage Control Series Masterlist

Read the whole series on AO3 here:

#supernatural #spn #fanfic #2x22 all hell breaks loose #dean winchester #sam winchester #hurt dean winchester #emotionally hurt sam winchester #the damage control series #hurt/comfort #ellen harvelle #bobby singer #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #coda #missing scene #blood cw

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xarrixii · 4 months ago

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Chapter_53 : "Parasite"

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CW: mention of negative side-effects scientific experiment archive masterlist | masterlist

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Alph wished they could’ve said they were looking out the window. That they knew where they were, knew the next highway they could cruise down without stopping for traffic.

They felt their hair scratch against their forehead. Could still see echoes of when everything had hit them like a brick, the recluse coming out of its shell.

The itch to call their dad formed a little too hard, and Alph turned their attention back to Afyer, who was humming the Kesha song playing on the radio and interrupted himself to cringe.

“You alright?” Alph lamented, hoping they could stop thinking for the next few hours at least.

Afyer turned the volume down as the song ended and an ad came on. “Yeah. Just this headache. Hasn’t let up yet.”

“You can pull over or park somewhere if you need to. We’re still near enough to the mall, right? We can always just have Mark walk some once he’s done and take over.”

“Nah, I’ll probably be fine. Think it’s just a pseudo-headache anyway.”

The first thing Alph thought of to say back was something they would’ve told Urban on one of his low days. But this was different. Alph wasn’t in the driver’s seat, and Afyer had a different tone.

Alph tried to squeeze out the thought. “What makes you think it’s fake?”

“It’s just a product of one of Storm’s experiments,” Afyer said without hesitation, sparkling with the same enthusiasm this music artist used talking about men and their fingers. “They’re trying to develop something more humane than the normal handcuffs used for kinetic users. You had a special name for them, right?”

“Hand binders?”

“Yeah, those.”

Alph’s heart panged. “What’s more human hand binders got to do with your headache?”

“Storm’s trying to make handcuffs, not binders. Maybe an ankle bracelet? I’m not sure, but they assured me it wouldn’t be like the rehab clinic I went to that one time. They handed me this metal block, and I immediately threw up when I touched it.” Afyer laughed at that, probably stealing a glance at Alph. Which only made Alph realize how agape they must look. “I don’t know what they did. Maybe it’s just a more concentrated version of the meds they give you after rehab when you keep touching the metal, maybe they found a new resource and have to tweak the alloy. Whatever it is, it seems, really cool, and the headache from not being able to connect to my pyrokinesis as long as I touched the metal is gonna be worth it in the long run.”

Alph was silent. Storm created something that blocked someone from their kinetic entirely? A physical thing?

“I thought kinetics were a genetic thing. Like, three genes involved in the process,” Alph said.

“That’s what I thought too. They haven’t told me how yet, probably because I talk too much, but they think they made the concentration too high on this first time, so they’re going to drastically lower it the next time I go in to help test it.” Afyer paused, listening to the radio for maybe five seconds. “Whoops, air quotes around concentration too high, there. I gotta start remembering that.”

“No, you’re good. But that’s…” Alph started thinking about all of the faces they could no longer see, the ones implanted in their brain for almost a decade. Children. Adults. Soup. The little boy who learned to stitch with his mouth. “That’s revolutionary, if they can get rid of the side effects but still have it work. Why wouldn’t Nacht tell me about that, because that’s—” Alph cut themselves off in their own bubbling excitement.

Afyer laughed with Alph. “Maybe he wanted to surprise you.”

Alph turned to stare at where Afyer would be sitting to the left, foot on the gas pedal and gazing forward into the colors Alph could barely make out. “You should probably pull over though. Headache and driving isn’t good.”

next chapter

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aaaawwaaaauuuuaa i'm running out of chapter ideas so it might start feeling rushed soon. sorry for my horrific schedule

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taglist: @lychhiker-writes, @madeoforgansandtissues, @fins0up

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dreamwritesimagines · 4 years ago

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Burn The Witch 4 - Making Believe [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: A lot can happen in a coffee shop.

Series Masterlist

Considering all the missions your superiors had sent you, this wasn’t the first one to make you end up with a gunshot wound, but it was the first one that you were assigned to seduce the target and ended up with a gunshot wound as a first impression.

Now that you had met Bucky, the next step would be easier. You just hoped he wouldn’t suspect something was up like General kept warning you about, so you had to make sure to memorize every single detail of your cover story.

Instead of being a trained assassin, you were now working in a milkshake shop.

Instead of having lived there your whole life, you were now clueless about the city since you had recently moved there.

Instead of liking horror movies, you now loved rom-coms.

New identity, new apartment, new car, new everything. It was as if the real you had never existed, but none of that was your biggest issue right now.

It was your new uniform for the milkshake shop.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered to yourself, looking in the mirror before fixing your skirt. Even after a week, you still weren’t used to wearing it, the uniform was some sort of a retro diner waitress costume with red and white stripes, cinched waist and a white apron over the short skirt. “I’m going to kill whoever picked this after I’m done with the mission.”

“Y/N?” Chloe called out from the living room, “Come on, we need to go over everything for today.”

You ran a hand over your face and walked to the living room to find your two best friends sprawling on the couch. Keith let out a laugh as soon as he saw you in that outfit, but managed to hide it by pressing his fist on his lips while Chloe kicked at his boot.

“I didn’t say anything!” He held up his hands, “Will you break my phone again if I take a picture?”

“Yeah,” you pointed at him, “I will, so don’t even.”

“We need to go over the plan,” Chloe said, “Today is the day you accidentally run into Barnes, he’ll be at that coffee shop.”

“How do you know where he will be?”

Chloe scoffed, “Hello? I’m a genius hacker?”

Keith sat up straighter, turning the pages of your file.

“Okay so,” he said, “You guys will probably make some small talk, let’s have some practice. Pretend I’m Bucky, how will you talk about yourself?”

“We don’t need to practice it, it’s not my first rodeo,” you reminded him “I got this.”

“Y/N, no offense but he isn’t some clueless civilian okay? The guy was going after targets before you or your parents were born for that matter. The tiniest mistake could tip him off.”

“He has a point.”

“Fine,” you sighed, fixing your nametag, “Let’s practice then.”

Keith took a deep breath and cleared his throat, “Look at that, we ran into each other again.”

You frowned at his deep voice, “Bucky doesn’t sound like one of those robots in the Terminator, Keith.”

“I’m in the zone, just go with it,” he said as offered you his hand, and you shook it.

“Yeah, hi again.”

“I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Oh that’s normal, I just moved here. A month ago.”

“You just moved here?” he repeated “Really? Did you get used to the city yet?”

“A little.”

“I bet your family misses you.”

“Not really, I grew up with my grandmother. She passed away last year.”

“Any siblings?”

“No.”

Keith raised his brows, “Can you be less specific?”

“Keith—“

“You’re not acting like a civilian right now, you’re acting like a spy who has been forced to socialize and he will see right through that,” he told you. “You have to give him more details, civilians talk about themselves a lot.”

“It’s true,” Chloe said, “Once I was in this speed dating thing and just- don’t ask. They don’t stop talking about themselves.”

Keith pursed his lips only for a moment, stealing a look at Chloe before turning to you,

“Let’s try again. Any siblings?”

You rolled your eyes, “Unfortunately not. I’m an only child but when I was a kid, I kept begging my parents for a sister. My mom asked me what would happen if I got a brother, apparently I went like “but mommy, you can give him back then!””

“There we go, embarrassing childhood memories,” Keith grinned, “Good idea.”

You checked your wristwatch, “I gotta run,” you said, “You guys can see yourselves out.”

“I was actually hoping I could stay a little more,” Chloe said, “To make this place look a bit more appropriate. I suppose you’ll bring him here at some point?”

You pulled your brows together, looking around. “Yeah, so? There’s a bedroom.”

“Ever the romantic, this one,” Keith said and Chloe shook her head,

“Y/N, he needs to see something personal otherwise he might get suspicious.”

You pursed your lips, deep in thought, “You mean like sex toys?”

“Oh Jesus…”

“Contrary to popular belief, when people say they want to see something personal, they don’t refer to sex toys.” Keith stated helpfully, “That being said, we’re all screwed if you end up falling for a civilian, you have no idea how to act like one.”

“I meant personal as in stuff to make your place look more homely,” Chloe explained, “Things from your cover’s past that show him we didn’t fabricate this whole identity.”

“Even if we did,” Keith mumbled under his breath and she nodded.

“Even if we did. He needs to see something personal when he comes here, like…” she motioned at the walls, “Like your childhood pictures or your art projects from when you were seventeen.”

“I was learning how to use a pencil as a knife when I was seventeen, Chloe.”

“Exactly. Just let me handle it, I’ve been watching so many makeover shows lately.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Knock yourself out,” you said, “I have milkshakes to fill, see you guys later.”

“Go get him tiger!”

“You got this!” Chloe called out as you walked to the door, “Just be confident and your milkshake will bring all the ex-assassins to the yard!”

You let out a small laugh, then closed the door behind you before throwing your shoulders back and going down the stairs.

***

Approaching the target as your training taught you had to have certain steps. You couldn’t just implant yourself in their life, you had to wait until they thought it was their choice to include you in their lives. Sometimes it took more time than you had patience for, but in the end it was worth it.

Seeing that Bucky Barnes was no civilian, every single step had to be checked twice.

Well the uniform would help the mission, at least a little.

A distracted target was a good target.

You lowered the binoculars before pushing them into your purse and fixing the apron wrapped around your waist. Bucky was sitting with Sam at the coffee shop and they seemed to be in a deep discussion, not even aware of what was going on around them. You took a deep breath and approached the door before you pushed it, then slowly made your way to the barista.

“Hi, can I get a cappuccino please? Small.” You smiled at her and went to the counter on the right to wait for your order. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Sam looking at you with a frown before saying something to Bucky, nodding in your direction. You kept your eyes on the counter, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet before you scratched around the tape of the bandage over the bullet wound absentmindedly.

Come on…. you thought Come on, approach me already, just come here….

“Here you go, miss.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the cup off the counter before you started pouring sugar into it just to stall, and finally heard someone clear their throat behind you.

Bingo.

You looked over your shoulder and turned around, your jaw dropping.

“Come on,” you let out a giggle, “Is this real?”

Bucky smiled slightly and pursed his lips together as if he wasn’t familiar with the gesture, “Uh…hi.”

“Hi!” you said, your voice way too high pitched for a moment, “Wow. We meet again, my hero.”

His smile widened and he rubbed the back of his neck, “How’s your arm?”

“Healing,” you ran a finger over the tape of the bandage, “I didn’t die, that’s something. But the doctor said that was the worst bullet wound he had ever seen in his life.”

Bucky frowned, “Wait, really?”

“No, I’m just trying to look badass,” you admitted, making him chuckle, “They didn’t even think it needed stitches.”

“Ah,” he said and motioned at your uniform, “So you’re a…?”

You scrunched up your nose in what you hoped to be a cute manner and shot him an abashed look, “I know. I thought the exact same thing when I first saw myself in it.”

“I doubt that,” he mumbled more to himself and you tilted your head, batting your lashes.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, “So the uniform?”

“I work at this milkshake shop just around the corner,” you said, “Apparently retro shops are popular nowadays. It’s supposed to look like this pin up style— can you tell me what’s wrong with the dress so that I can tell the owner what a ridiculous idea it is?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again, looking you up and down, “I don’t- it’s-“ he stammered “You know, it was such a long time ago. I think it looks perfectly fine.”

“Does it?”

“Absolutely.”

You grinned at him, “Well in any case, you should drop by sometime. Milkshakes are better than the uniform, I promise.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, “Yeah! I would’ve invited you sooner but by the time I was done at the hospital you had already left, and they also told me you paid for the whole thing and the taxi, so…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved a hand, “It’s nothing.”

You bit down on your lip, “If you don’t mind me asking,” you said softly, “Why did you leave in a hurry? I mean obviously you didn’t have to stay, I’m sure you’re very busy and—“

“No no, it’s nothing like that,” Bucky cut you off, “I just didn’t want you to think you owed me anything, that’s all.”

“Huh,” you clicked your tongue, “I see. I was wondering what the catch was, didn’t have to wait that long. That’s good to know.”

He raised his brows, amused for some reason, “What’s the catch?”

“You’re too much of a gentleman.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not really,” you taunted him “Just unfamiliar.”

His gaze lingered on you as you took a sip of your coffee, keeping your eyes on him.

“I hope you got home safe though,” he said after a beat and you thought for a moment.

“I did, and now I know to stay away from dark alleys in New York,” you said, “Lesson learned I’d say.”

“You’re not from around here?”

“I- no, I actually moved here just a month ago,” you said, “I grew up in a small town, we didn’t really have robbers or anything. And I managed to get mugged within the first thirty days in a big city. A true New York experience, I feel like I belong here already.”

“Your folks must be losing their minds if you attract trouble that fast in the city.”

“No one is losing their minds, it’s just me,” you said and when you saw his quizzical glances, you felt the need to explain. “I grew up with my grandma and I lost her a year ago, so…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ah it’s okay,” you said, “She wouldn’t want me to live in sadness, she told me that herself. You can’t focus on what ifs, you know? We just decide what to do with the time left for us and that’s it. Past would drive all of us crazy otherwise.”

He looked almost surprised at your take on loss and when you saw the soft light in his eyes, you knew you had just hit jackpot.

“You’re a glass half full kind of person, huh?”

Nope, I’m more of a “use the glass as a weapon” kind of person.

“Yeah,” you said, “There are enough pessimists in the world, and they don’t need me within their ranks. No one really did anything nice by thinking the worst anyways.”

“Oh you were definitely not raised here.”

Your jaw dropped, “You know what Mr. Barnes, I’d take that as an offense but lucky for you, you saved me the other day, so I’ll let that slide.”

“Mm hm,” He looked like he was struggling with himself not to laugh, “Lucky me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, then checked your wristwatch.

“I should probably go, my boss cares a lot about punctuality,” you said, “But is it okay if I gave you my number?”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds as if he couldn’t believe you.

“Wait- really?”

“I mean I was going to wait until you asked me, but apparently you’re too much of a gentleman,” you joked as he hastily grabbed his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. You typed in your number, then saved it.

Y/N (The Milkshake Girl)

Bucky tilted his head, his brows furrowed, “What, you didn’t think I’d recognize your name?”

“Well it’s better to be safe than sorry,” you joked, “Besides you should really come by sometime. We have the best chocolate milkshakes. It’s on the house.”

He smiled, “I will.”

You took a step, then held your breath and turned around as if you had just remembered something.

As if it wasn’t all practiced.

“But not after 4 on Mondays and Wednesdays,” you said, “I volunteer at the soup kitchen then.”

That light in his eyes was almost gentle, as if he was worried he could hurt you just by looking at you, but couldn’t stop himself from doing so.

“I’ll see you not after 4 on Mondays and Wednesdays then,” he said and you giggled, then turned around and walked to the door. Sam was watching you with a small, proud grin on his lips so you waved at him and left the coffee shop, still holding the warm cup tightly in your hand.

As soon as you were sure you were out of their sight, you dropped the smile, exhaled a relaxed breathe and grabbed your phone to touch the contact on the screen.

“I’m sorry, our delivery service is down right now,” the voice said and you scratched around the tape on your arm before telling her the code;

“That’s okay, I can wait until the rain stops.”

There was a click on the other line and soon enough you heard the assistant’s voice.

“Hello?”

“This is Shrike, put me through the General.”

“Of course, a second please,” she said and you tossed the cup into the garbage can, then General’s voice reached you.

“Shrike?”

“Sir, I just called to inform you that I’ve contacted the target for the second time,” you said, “Everything is going according to plan, my report will be on your desk by tonight.”

“He didn’t suspect anything?”

“No sir.”

“Okay,” he said, “Don’t move too fast, alright? We don’t want to spook him.”

“Of course.”

“And Shrike?” he said, “Good job.”

A smile lit up your face, “Thank you sir,” you said and hung up, closing your eyes and leaning back to the wall.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “You got this, he’s just another target. Let the games begin.”

Chapter 5

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #bucky barnes x you

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

Text

Love and Medicine ~ 4

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,700ish

Summary: Your new roommates annoy you and Steve presses your buttons.

(I do not own Marvel or Grey’s Anatomy.)

Val, Scott, and Clint had been living at your place for almost two days, when you woke up to Val standing at the foot of your bed.

“Aaah!” You exclaimed, jumping slightly.

“Clint’s room is bigger than mine,” Val complained. You got out of bed, quickly tripping as Val continued, “I have more clothes, I should have the bigger room.”

You let out a groan as you picked yourself up off the floor and headed out of your room. Only to be met with Clint as well.

“I got here first,” Clint stated.

“It’s Y/N’s house, she should decide,” Val said. You continued down the hall, heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“My room is like, two inches bigger than yours!”

“You have a bigger closet!”

“So? Why is everything always a competition? I think that you can put your clothes somewhere else!”

“Everywhere else is filled with Y/N’s parent’s boxes.”

“Y/N? What are you going to do with all this stuff anyway?” You entered the kitchen to see that Scott had made breakfast. “Because maybe we can put some of the boxes in storage.”

“Or we could unpack a few things,” Scott suggested, handing you a plate of food and a cup of coffee. “Make this place a little more homey. Maybe some throw pillows and lamps, a few paintings.”

“Oh, paintings would be nice.”

“A quiet morning before work would be nice,” you muttered into your coffee, having sat down at the table.

“Yeah!” Val agreed with Clint and Scott. “You have all this amazing stuff just packed away. In the back hall, I found this box with like a hundred tapes of someone performing these amazing medical procedures.”

“Really?” Scott questioned. “We should watch them. Y/N, do you want to—“ You got up from the table, quickly leaving with your coffee in hand. “Wait, where are you going?” Your roomies followed you.

“Y/N,” Clint called. “We’re just trying to help. We could unpack for you.”

“Yeah,” Val added. “You wouldn’t have to do—“ You slammed your bedroom door in their faces.

“Y/N?” Clint whispered. “Do you want some privacy?”

You sighed as you slumped against the door. You were beginning to regret this whole roommate thing.

~~~

When you interns arrived at the hospital later that morning, you were immediately told to head to the pit (the ER). You were all helping each other suit up (gowns, gloves, etc.) while you talked.

“Fools on bikes killing themselves,” Gamora grumbled. “Natural selection is what it is.”

“So what’s up with Gamora?” Peter questioned quietly. “Is she off her meds?”

“You’ve never heard of the race?” Clint asked. Peter shook his head. “Every year this bar—“

“—The HYDRA Bar—“ you cut in.

“Yeah. Every year, they hold this underground bike race.”

“The race is completely illegal,” Scott added. “And—“

“Crazy,” you interrupted. “A bunch of bike messengers racing against traffic trying to beat each other for free shots of tequila.”

“All-out, no holds barred competition,” Peter said, “sounds like fun.”

“Yeah,” Val scoffed. “You would think that.”

“The race doesn’t even have any rules,” Clint added. “Except eye gouging—no eye gouging.”

“Oh great,” Natasha murmured. “We're going to be trapped in the Pit bandaging up idiots when we could be up in the OR?”

“What kind of people engage in a race that has, as its only rule, that you can't rip out the eyeballs of another human being?” Scott wondered.

“Men, Scottie,” Peter responded. “Men.”

“I need someone to get up to the OR floor,” Gamora stated loudly. “The Chief needs a right hand.” You all shot up your hands. “Clint.”

“Yes!” Clint exclaimed, rushing away.

“Okay people, the rules of trauma. Don't mingle with the ER interns, they don't know their ass from their esophagus. Sew fast, discharge fast, take bodies up to the OR yesterday. Don't let me catch you fighting over patients. Got it? Come on, let's go.”

You interns rushed into the ER, seeing injured bikers everywhere.

“Oh, it’s like candy,” Natasha commented. “But with blood, which is so much better.”

Val and Natasha quickly started bickering about a biker that was just wheeled in. You looked around, trying to find an interesting case to jump on to.

“Ooh,” you said after seeing a guy with nails in his side. “I’ll take that guy.”

“No, you’ll have to beat me to him first,” Peter responded. You both ran to him, getting there at the same time. Peter pulled the curtain closed between them and the patient. “Heads he’s mine, tails he’s yours.” He fished out a coin from his pocket.

“Why do you get to be heads?”

“Because I have a head, and you are tail.”

“Excuse me! How do you make everything dirty?” Peter flipped it. “Ha. Tails. There are plenty of other cases.”

“So go get one. I was here first.”

“I am not backing down so I can do sutures all day while you're up in the OR. This is a surgical case, and you know it.”

“It's superficial. I mean, it's cool, but it's superficial.”

“How do you know those things didn't rupture his peritoneum?”

“Because he's sitting up, and he's sitting there talking to us!”

The patient pulled the curtain back. “Allo,” he said with an accent. “Excuse me, I was wondering if you could take these out, and sew me up, so I can go and win my race?”

“Well, we can’t just pull them out,” you told him. “I mean, we ought to—“ Peter quickly started ripping the nails out of the mans side. “—do some tests—“

“Oh, wicked.” The man smiled with a nod, grimacing a little with each pull.

“Are you out of your mind?!”

“it’s a superficial wound,” Peter said, handing the nails over to you. “Sew him up, and let him finish his race.” Peter walked away.

“You—you— ugh!”

“Good man,” the patient commented.

“Just, don’t move while I go get something to sew that up.”

“Of course, darlin’.”

You huffed in annoyance as you left to grab a suture kit. Coming back, you realized that the patient had been watching you the whole time, clearly checking you out. Which only made you more annoyed. Not that the guy wasn’t attractive, you just started the day feeling annoyed. You led him to a trauma room and cleaned the wound before beginning to sew it up.

“The name’s Hunter, by the way,” the patient stated.

“Hunter?” You repeated as you tried to concentrate on what you were doing. “Okay.”

“Hey! Don’t diss!”

“Not dissing, just concentrating.”

“Ah, you got a nice touch,” Hunter commented as you pulled another stitch. “And by the way, you are a rocking babe.”

“Seriously, do you actually think you have a shot here?”

“I like to think I've got a shot everywhere.”

“Look, you really have to let me take you for some tests, and a CT. You could have internal bleeding.”

“No thank you. I’ve got a race to get back to.”

You finished up the last stitch and stood up so that you could be face to face with him. “Why? You can't win now anyway.”

“Doesn't mean I can't cross that finish line. There's a party at the finish line. Do you want to meet me there?”

“One test. A CT. I'll have you out of here in an hour.”

“Can't do it, gotta go.”

“Okay, well, you realize that you're leaving against medical advice and I strongly urge you to stay.”

“The frat guy said I could go.”

“The frat guy is an ass. Okay, well, you have to sign an AMA form.” You reached behind you and grabbed a clipboard with the form.

“Darlin', I will do anything you want me to.”

“What is it with you guys and your need to dirty everything up?”

“I don't know. Maybe it's just testosterone, eh?”

“Maybe. You might want to see a doctor about that, too.”

“Come here.” He took the form, quickly signing it. “There.”

He handed the form back before getting up. Hunter took a few steps towards the door before spinning around. He grabbed you and kissed you.

“That was for good luck,” he whispered, walking away backwards. “Don’t worry, darlin’, you’ll see me again.” He left the room.

“For your sake, I hope not!” You called after him.

Shaking your head, you began to strip the bed. You couldn’t help the feeling though, that you were being watched. Looking up, you saw Steve standing outside the door.

“What do you want?” You asked as Steve entered the room.

“You make out with patients now?”

You looked up at him with a small smirk. “What are you jealous?”

“I don’t get jealous.”

“We had sex, once.”

“And we kissed, in an elevator.”

“And we kissed in an elevator, once!”

“No, seriously, I mean come on, go out with me.”

“No.”

“You know, I almost died today.” You gave him a questioning look. “Yeah, I came like this close.” He gestured with his hands, a small gap between his finger and thumb. “How would you feel if I died? And you didn’t get a chance to go out with me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Get over yourself already.” You headed for the door.

“Come on.” Steve followed you.

You spun around. “It’s the chase, isn't it?”

“What?”

“The thrill of the chase. I've been wondering to myself, why are you so hell bent on getting me to go out with you? You know you're my boss, you know it's against the rules, you know I keep saying no. It's the chase.”

“Well, it’s fun. Isn’t it?”

“Yes see?” You waved a finger at him. “This is a game to you. But not to me. Because unlike you, I still have something to prove.”

You took your leave, hurrying to find another patient in need.

~~~

You were walking past a patient room when you heard Val call your name.

“Y/N!” You rushed in. “He’s crashing.”

“Well, what the hell are you doing?” You asked her. “Call code!”

“I can’t. I’m not supposed to, he’s brain dead.”

“Well Val, if he’s brain dead, you have to let him go.”

“No. It's only been five hours and thirty-three minutes, he's supposed to get six hours.”

“Well, we can't do anything to make him live, it's not our place to make that call.”

“He's a person, we're doctors, we should have every right to make that call. We can't just stand here and do nothing while he dies. He has a right to the next twenty-seven minutes.”

“Screw it. I’ll get the dopamine, you get the blood. We’ll transfuse him.”

You and Val worked together to save the guy, with Natasha coming in to help. After you got him stable, you and Val decided to take a walk.

“He’s stable,” you stated, walking up the stairs.

“For now,” Natasha said, coming down the stairs. “I had a radiologist look at his chest, apparently he has a traumatic aortic injury. He's going to rupture and bleed out.”

“So he needs surgery,” Val said.

“If he's going to remain a viable organ donor, yeah.”

“If he's going to live.”

“Val…”

“No! I’m not giving up on him. He has the surgery, he lives longer, that's the point. So I'm going to help find the family, you guys find a way to get him into surgery.” Val continued up the stairs.

“She’s vice-president of fantasyland.”

“So who do we go to?” You asked. “Gamora?”

“No, we need to go higher than Gamora.” Nat and you followed Val up the stairs.

You came to the conclusion that you needed to talk to Banner. You found him entering the men’s restroom.

“Let’s just wait until he’s done,” you suggested.

“No,” Natasha said. “Just open the door and talk to him.”

“Are you for real?” Natasha and Val pushed you into the door. “Dr. Banner?” You nervously called into the mens bathroom.

“Hello?!” Banner exclaimed.

“Okay…” you quickly closed the door. “Yeah… nope.”

Natasha pushed you aside and opened the door. “Dr. Banner, I know you’re busy, but our John Doe needs an aortic repair.”

“The guy from this morning?” Banner questioned, still doing his business. “Isn’t he legally dead?”

“Well, yeah, he's kinda still around? We gave him two units PRBCs and put him on pressers.”

“On whose orders?”

Natasha shut the door, giving you a look before forcing you to open it.

“Mine,” you squeaked.

“You gave a brain-dead John Doe a blood transfusion without consulting anyone. And now you want me to repair his heart.”

“Well, yes,” Natasha replied.

“You do enjoy crossing the line, don’t you?” Banner moved to wash his hands.

“He is an excellent candidate for organ donation,” you added.

“I am a surgeon. I save lives. This guy is already dead. Now, this is the men's room. Either whip one out or close the door.”

With a sigh, you closed the door and started walking away. As you did so, you got an idea.

“I think I’m going to regret this,” you mumbled. “I have an idea. Just… I’ll page you after I find an answer.”

You quickly left in search of Steve. You found him in a hallway and pulled him aside. You explained the situation, with him actively listening.

“You're asking my advice?” Steve questioned.

“Yes,” you responded with a nod.

“Now who’s chasing?” He teased.

“Not funny. This is important.”

“Okay. You want to get around Banner? You gotta find a way to get the Chief involved.”

“Okay—”

“And agree to go out with me?”

“Nope. Not happening.” You turned around.

“You’ll cave, eventually!” He called after you. “I’ll get her.”

~~~

At lunch, you, Val, and Natasha ran into Clint. He was in the middle of eating a sandwich when the three of you came up to him, standing in a line, staring.

“What’d I do?” He asked, food in his mouth.

“How close a match for the liver is your guy to our John Doe?” Val asked.

“Very.” Clint swallowed. “Same type, same size. UNOS couldn't find a better match, why?”

“And he's the Chief's VIP, right?” You asked.

“Right.”

“How much would you kill to be in on a transplant surgery?” Natasha asked.

“You underestimate me. I'm not a baby, I'm your colleague. You don't have to manipulate me, if you want something, all you have to do is ask.”

“We want you to go over Banner's head to the chief,” Val said.

“Ask me something easier.”

~~~

With a bit of persuasion, Clint finally caved in. Val, Natasha, and you watched from down the hallway Clint stop the Chief.

“Sir?” Clint called.

“Barton,” Fury turned around. “How’s Jackson?”

“Fine. Sir, actually, that's what I want to talk to you about. I-I kind of think that— we— uh, me, and the other interns, we think— we’re— we're not—“

“Barton, I’m not getting any younger.”

“We found Jackson a liver.”

“We are so going to hell,” you muttered. “Banner’s sending us straight to hell.”

“On an express train,” Val added.

“If it works,” Natasha said.

Peter came up to them. “What are you doing?” He asked.

“Nothing,” the three of you responded in unison.

Peter noticed that you were watching Clint and Fury. So he began watching too. Banner walked past but Fury quickly stopped him, adding him to the conversation.

“Yes,” Val grinned.

Fury left soon after, leaving Banner to give Clint a questioning look. Clint immediately followed after Fury. Banner turned to look at the rest of you.

“Oh, crap,” Natasha muttered.

You three hurried away, leaving Peter. Peter quickly went after Banner.

“Dr. Banner! Dr. Banner!”

~~~

You found out through the OR board that Peter had been chosen to assist Dr. Banner in the surgery. You and Natasha were extremely irritated. You all sat up in the gallery, watching the surgery.

“I seriously hate that guy,” Natasha said.

“Peter is vermin,” you added in agreement. “That surgery is ours.”

“At least Banner is doing the surgery. I don't care about Peter,” Val said. “Clint? You did good.”

“I'm going to have to dodge Banner for the rest of my career,” Clint said, shaking his head. “He could kill me and make it look like an accident.”

“Now that would make an interesting Dateline,” Scott said.

“Really, Scott?” You questioned, trying to suppress a laugh. “That’s the first thing you go to?”

“Hey! You can’t deny that you wouldn’t watch it.”

~~~

After the surgery, it was time to go home. You had just changed out of your scrubs and were grabbing a few things from your locker when Peter waltzed in.

“Oh, I smell good,” he commented. “You know what it is?” He turned to you. “It’s the smell of open heart surgery.” He breathed in deeply. “It's awesome. It is awesome. You gotta smell me.” He came up behind you, leaning into you.

“I don’t want to smell you,” you retorted.

“Oh, yes you do.” He nuzzled into your hair.

You quickly spun around and grabbed him, pushing him against the lockers by his shirt. “You have got to be kidding me! Okay. I have more important things to deal with than you. I have roommates, and boy problems, and family problems.” Peter yawned, glancing around. “You want to act like a little frat boy bitch, that's fine. You want to take credit for your saves, and everybody else's? That's fine too. Just stay out of my face.” As Steve opened the door, you grabbed Peter by the chin, making him look at you. “And for the record, you smell like crap.”

You turn, finally seeing Steve. You go back to your locker. Steve motioned as if to say, what happened?”

“She attacked me,” Peter said, pointing at you.

You spun back around to really attack him.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Steve rushed over, grabbing your arms and pushing you back. He turned to Peter. “You know, you might want to leave. Before I change my mind and let her beat you to a pulp with her tiny ineffectual fists.”

He let go of you to push Peter out the door. As Steve closed the door, Peter pulled a face at you, how mature. Steve sighed. You studied him, getting more stupid feelings for him by the second.

“What?” Steve wondered.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, turning to pull your jacket out of your locker. “It’s just…” You gave him another long look, him nodding encouragingly. “Nothing.”

You closed your locker and made your way to the door. Steve opened it for you. You looked at him again for a few seconds before striding away. He looked up at the ceiling with a sigh.

“I’m telling you, Rogers,” Stark commented as he leaned against the wall across from the door. “Not a good idea.”

“How the hell are you around every damn time?!” Steve exclaimed.

Tony laughed. “Honestly, I think I may have a gift for sensing everyone else’s stupid decisions but my own.”

“Well, can you stop sensing mine?!”

“Sorry, Steve. You’re the only one making stupid decisions currently."

~~~

All you wanted was your bed. And a quiet house. When you got home, Val, Clint, and Scott were already there. They were in the living room, sitting on the floor while going through a box of tapes.

“Ooh, this one is skin grafting!” Val said, pulling out a tape.

“Skin grafting? No way!” Scott responded, taking the tape from her. “I've never seen that done before.”

“Are those my parent’s surgical tapes?” You asked, bring there attention to you.

“We should watch the skin grafting one first,” Clint said.

You looked around the room. There were pieces of furniture and art that you had sworn were packed up this morning.

“Where did all this stuff come from?” You questioned.

“Oh, I unpacked some of the boxes,” Val replied. “I was upset, and when I'm upset I like to nest.”

“Same,” Clint and Scott added. You began taking down pictures.

“Oooh!” Val quickly grabbed another top. “Hemipelvectomy.”

“Let’s definitely watch that one first,” Scott said.

“No. No. We’re not watching my parent’s surgery tapes,” you quickly ripped the tapes from their hands, “we’re not unpacking boxes,” you motioned to the boxes around the room, “and we’re not having long conversations where we celebrate the moments of our lives!” You slammed the tapes on the coffee table. You grabbed the beer bottle that sat on the table and slammed it onto a coaster. “And use a damn coaster!” You turned to leave.

“I ordered Chinese food…”

You marched up the stairs. “I hate Chinese food!”

Here’s the thing… both of your parents were widely renowned surgeons. But they both died in a terrible accident almost a year ago. After that happened, you quickly changed your last name to one of your Grandmother’s maiden names. You didn’t want all the attention. You had already gotten so much through med school and have the accident, you didn’t want anymore.

~~~

You were grateful that your roommates didn’t bother you the rest of the night. And when it came time for work in the morning, you made sure to leave without them. You met up with Natasha in front of the hospital and walked in together.

“They're everywhere. All the time. Scott's all perky, and Clint does this thing where he's helpful and considerate, and Val just, I don’t know is Val!” You complained. “They share food and they say things and they move things, and they breathe.” You let out a little whimper. “They're like happy.”

“Kick them out,” Natasha responded.

“I can't kick them out. They just moved in. I asked them to move in.”

"So what, you're just going to repress everything into some deep dark twisted place until one day you snap and kill them?”

“Yep, basically.”

“This is why we are friends.”

Peter jogged up as they entered the hospital.

“Why is Gamora making us stay in the Pit two days in a row?” He asked.

“Leftovers,” you replied.

“Leftovers?”

“Gotta get the cyclists who were too drunk or too stupid or too scared to get themselves to a hospital yesterday.”

“While meanwhile, she gets to do a freakin' organ harvest.” He motioned to Natasha.

“Oh, that kills you, doesn’t it?” She smirked.

“What?”

“That two women got the harvest.” You three stopped in front of the elevator.

“No, it kills me that anyone got the harvest but me. Boobs do not factor into this equation. Unless you want to show me yours.”

You and Natasha exchanged looks. “I’m going to become a lesbian,” you stated.

“Me too,” Natasha responded.

~~~

You and Peter tried to civilly work near each other in the Pit. As you filed away some patient paperwork, you glanced over at the waiting room. You did a double take after seeing your patient from yesterday, Hunter, waiting.

“What’s Hunter doing here?” You asked.

Peter glanced up at the waiting room before going back to what he was working on. “Probably crashed his bike,” he answered. “Again.”

“How long has he been waiting?”

"Don't know, I'm busy on real cases. He's all yours.”

You walked over to him. “Hunter? Hunter?” You noticed that he was holding his side, the injured side, as you came closer. He didn’t look at you as he started to cough. “Are you okay?” He tried to get up and you ran the rest of the way to him. Hunter fell, unconscious as blood came from his mouth. “Hunter!”

You got down next to him, lifting up his shirt. The stitches you did yesterday were ripped open and the area around them had swelled up. You quickly called for help, other nurses and doctors quickly came with a gurney. They helped lift Hunter on with you jumping on to sit on top of him. You tried to hold his wound closed as you turned at talked to a nurse.

“Call up to the OR and tell them we’re coming,” you ordered. “And page Dr. Gamora.”

“Right away,” the nurse replied, rushing off.

You noticed Peter staring at Hunter, a bit stunned. “Peter! Push the dam gurney.”

Peter quickly rushed into action.

“Clear the way!” The nurse with the two of you called. “Coming through!”

“Somebody get the elevator!” Peter yelled.

“Hurry,” you said. “I don't know how long I can keep this wound closed.”

The gurney is pushed into the elevator. You watched as the doors seem to slowly close. You and Peter watch as the level numbers light up.

“Move faster, damn it,” you muttered.

Finally, the doors reopened and the gurney was quickly taken into the OR.

“Well, this is a new one,” Gamora commented, ready and waiting in the OR. “Somebody get her off my patient.” A nurse helped you climb down. “Y/N, go get cleaned up and scrub in, Peter, get back downstairs.”

“Yeah, but I helped,” Peter defended.

“Helped! They tell me down in the Pit that you only want to take the hot cases. In every pack of interns there's always one fool that's running around trying to show off, and Peter, this time that fool is you. Get out.”

With an angry sigh, he left the OR. You quickly left after, going to clean up and scrub in.

~~~

After the surgery, you and Gamora were informed that Viper had friends waiting in the lobby for him. You two went out to talk to them.

“This lovely group's his friends. Uh, you all belong to—“ Gamora looked at you. “What’s his name?”

“Hunter” you answered.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah,” a man replied. “We were in the race.”

“How is he?” A woman stepped up. “Is he okay?”

“Is he okay?” Gamora repeated. “No. No, he is not okay, at all. He hurled his body down a concrete mountain at full speed for no good reason. Yeah, I know you all pierce yourselves and smoke up and generally treat your bodies like your grungy asses can't break down to A, you want to kill yourselves, flying down a concrete mountain, go to it, but there are other people walking, people driving, people trying live their lives on that concrete mountain, and one of them got his brains scrambled today because one of you little sniffling no-good snot-rag—“

“Doctor Gamora—“ you tried to stop her.

“Yeah, yeah so no, your friend Hunter, as far as I'm concerned, is not okay.” Gamora stalked off.

“She's, um, really tired, but, uh, Hunter's going to make it,” you said. “He’s gonna live.”

A chorus of “cools” and “thanks” were heard from he group. You stood there, awkwardly nodding for a few seconds too long before hurrying away.

~~~

At the end of the day, Steve found you in the locker room, alone. He came in, shutting the door behind him.

“It’s not the chase,” Steve stated, catching your attention.

“What?”

“You and me. It is not the thrill of the chase. It's not a game. It’s... it's your tiny ineffectual fists. And your hair.”

“My hair?”

“Smells good. And you're very, very bossy. Keeps me in line.”

“I’m still not going out with you.”

Steve smirked, opening the door back up. “You say that now.”

He leaned over and kissed your cheek, then he left. That man was for sure going to be the death of you. You could feel it.

~~~

When you arrived home, Val, Scott, Natasha, and Clint were in the living room, eating pizza, drinking, and watching a surgical tape.

"Okay, this is the best part, watch, this is where they pulls a block of skin down over the face,” Val said.

You cleared your throat. “Hi,” you said as they looked at you.

“We were— uh, we were just,” Scott stuttered.

“Natasha made us!” Clint quickly said.

“What are we watching?” You asked, coming into the room more. “Ooh.” You sat down and took some pizza. “This is the one where my mother—“

“Literally pulls this guy’s face off!” Val interrupted.

“Yeah.”

You nodded, looking around at your friends. There might be a small chance that you could get used to this.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #clint barton x reader #valkyrie x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #scott lang x reader #peter quill x reader #gamora x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

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softcallofdutyimagines · 4 years ago

Text

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 1

Summary:

Another day, another dollar at your new job in the CIA offices. You thought this was your dream job. So why is everything so... Boring? But before you can make up your mind to quit, a chance encounter with a certain Marine may just prove to be the start of exactly the kind of excitement you've been looking for.

Tags: Slow burn

Next Chapter Here! | Warnings: None except Frank's language lmao

You smooth your skirt and touch up your lipstick for what feels like the tenth time today as you shift in your office chair. It’s not normally like you to be the nervous type, but ever since you landed this gig in the CIA, you’ve been on your toes. ‘Relax’, your coworkers say, ‘You’re doing fine!’.

But just ‘fine’ never quite suited you. Especially with top tier agents like Russell Adler and Jason Hudson walking around…

No, “fine” doesn’t cut it.

But... you have to admit, the stress of keeping up a tough work ethic is getting to you. Just a bit. All the hustle and bustle in this place, and for what? You shake your head out. No no, there’s no time for thoughts like that. You just have to keep pushing through and you’ll get over it.

Right?

You sigh in dismay, not entirely sure you believe yourself, before snapping to attention as your desk phone rings. With a curt response, you pick up and receive yet another task to fetch papers.

“Yes Sir”

... and a coffee.

“...Of course, Sir”.

You click the phone into its receiver and slump back into your chair, feeling more defeated now then ever.

If you wanted to run around doing errands all day, you would’ve moved back in with your mother. When were you going to get up to something… Exciting? Maybe not in the dangerous, life threatening way, but… Well… Anything must be better than this.

These thoughts swirl in your mind to and from the fax machine, to the break room, and all the way to your supervisor's desk.

“Anything else for me Sir?”

The man in question hardly even gives you a second look as he shuffles through the papers and sips the piping hot drink, “No, that’ll b- Wait, actually…”, he turns around in his office chair and flips quickly through folders in a filing cabinet.

At last, he turns around and hands you one such folder as you bite back a scream. “Could you fax these off for me?”, he scribbles down the receiving address on a post it note and slaps it on top, “Send em here, here, and here”.

You give a sharp nod and a “Yes Sir”, before turning and leaving on a dime.

The skin around your eyes and throat feel tight, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think you were on the brink of tears. Who are you kidding…. This isn’t at all what you were expecting. Maybe you’d be better off looking for something else, at least then you wouldn’t be so miserable all the ti-

Then, just as you’re lost in your day dreams, you next find yourself flat on the carpeted floor.

Your papers scatter all around, and it has just now occurred to you that you’ve bounced off another human being. Perhaps you should save the disparaging thoughts for your office from now on... Well, assuming you aren’t about to be fired on the spot.

For a moment, that doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, and you decide to take your time sitting up.

“Oh fuck, sorry”

You look up, following the sound of a gruff man’s voice.

Marine Sergeant Frank Woods towers above you, looking almost as powerful in this moment and from your unfortunate perspective as all the stories make him out to be. Your heart races in your chest as it gives way to panic. Now you’re really in for it.

“Oh! N-no, I’m so sorry, I uh- I should watch where I’m going”, you spit out an apology and an excuse all in one go as you maneuver quickly to pick up your scattered array of papers.

Frank watches you for a moment, mildly disinterested, and looking as though he’s about to shrug it off and walk away. You are right after all, you should watch where you're going. But then again... he could say the same for himself.

“Ah, don’t sweat it kid. Here”, Woods slowly leans down, perhaps giving his knees a chance to adjust from the previous lack of activity, and helps you gather up your things.

You appreciate the help, but can’t help but cringe a bit as you watch him grab the papers by the fistful, crinkling them slightly. Regardless, he shuffles the papers into a uniform stack before flicking his gaze back up to you, “Ther- Hey, wait a minute… Haven't I seen you around here before?”

You think for a split second, but you’re quite sure he hasn’t.

“No no, I have! Yeah, you’re the one that walks around looking pissed all the time”, he laughs, “Damn, I gotta say, you scare the shit outta me even! No wonder these bastard’s brought you on”.

Before you can even catch up to what he's saying, he has himself nearly in stitches laughing at your expense.

The urge comes over you to retort that there are plenty of legitimate reasons you were hired, and, more importantly, you are not “pissed all the time”, but before you can even open your mouth, you find you’ve lost your train of thought.

No, instead you find yourself immensely distracted by the Sargent’s laugh. Not so much the fact that he’s having the time of his life at your expense, but more so just… the sound of it.

It comes more like long, drawn out wheezes, only interrupted by gasps of air that sounds more like choking, before devolving into something more steady at least, but just as strange. You could only describe it as somewhere between grunting and barking. From this alone, you can tell he smokes too much and perhaps isn’t use to laughing this hard either.

What that says about you, you’d rather not think about. Instead, you find your mask of professionalism slipping as the corner of your glossy lips curls up into a smile.

You never thought such annoying, and obnoxious laughter could be contagious, and yet here you are trying, yet failing, to hold back some snickering of your own.

“Ah, shit…”, Woods drags his forearm across his eyes to dry them before fixing his gaze back on you, “You know... I think that is the happiest I’ve ever seen you around here. Is this place that shitty?”, he hands you back your papers at last as the creases at the corners of his eye furrow in mirth.

For a second, you’re worried he’s about to break into laughter again as he’s sure to drag you along with him this time, but instead he simply waits quietly, and you get the feeling he expects an answer.

“Well… Not in those words perhaps. It’s just, not what I expected I guess...”, you look away, not to sure what to say and yet feeling a little sadly now, as you shuffle the papers together and neatly place the crumpled stack back in the folder.

“Yeah, I get that… Heh, I wish I could be out in the field right now, you know? I mean fuck, there must be someone who needs killing, right?”, Woods huffs a few dry chuckles, looking at you as though he expects you to laugh.

You do not.

Instead, you offer an awkward smile and nod, not sure how to respond to such a grisly statement. Let alone one that’s meant to be taken as a joke. Woods coughs into his fist, then goes to stand abruptly.

“Anyway, I have shit to do”, he waits a just a moment in politeness until you’re standing as well before giving his final parting statement, “Later”

“Ahem, goodbye Sarg-”, but it’s too late, he’s already trudging off.

You blink, feeling bewildered at the twists and turns that interaction had to offer. Fortunately, you have more important matters to attend to as well, rather than let yourself be distracted by… whatever that was.

Suddenly you remember why you dislike working with the frontline troops.

Frank’s blood pressure feels like it’s going to explode through the top of his head. His knuckles are clenched white as he storms out of the building. Once outside, he stops to take a smoke break.

His head is pounding as he fumbles for a cigarette and then at long last he finally manages to retrieve his lighter as well.

Why the fuck would he say something like that? “there must be someone who needs killing”, yeah real smooth Frank, what a line...

He flicks the lighter spark again and again, but it refuses to catch. “Fuck!”, frustration overcomes him as he gives up and shoves it back in his pocket, throwing the unlit cigarette to the ground too for good measure.

That was the longest interaction he’s had with a woman in… in…

Well, he can’t even remember! And yet, he still managed to fuck it up.

Woods slams the door of his car shut behind him and takes a moment to cool off there in the seat.

You must think he’s some kind of psychopath.

Frank catches his reflection in the rearview mirror. If Mason was here, he’d say you’d be right. He jerks the mirror away so he can’t see himself anymore. Bastard. He snorts out a sigh and rubs a hand over his eyes as he tries to let the embarrassment go.

He needs a drink.

The ignition whines and after a few tries it finally starts up. Ah well, he reasons, maybe if he’s lucky he won’t see you again.

#call of duty #black ops cold war #frank woods #frank woods x reader #cod fic

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fuckallthegood0nesweretaken · 3 years ago

Text

New World CH. Eighteen

Title: Alive

Words: 3001

Warnings: Strong language, talk of rape and past assault (no actual rape or assault), talk of killing

A/N: Enjoy!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

New World Masterlist

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

The Walking Dead Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

Dean

Dean was running along the fence when he saw Daryl and Merle. Heart pounding in his chest, he quickened his pace until Merle was on the ground, face in the dirt.

“What the hell are ya doin’?” Daryl said angrily.

Dean didn’t answer and just dug his knee into Merle’s back, causing him to let out a yell of pain.

“The fuck is he doing here, Rick?” Dean asked Rick.

“They came out of the woods and saved me,” Rick said. “If they weren’t here, I’d be dead.”

“He’s not coming inside,” Dean spat.

“He is,” Daryl said. “Now get offa him!”

Dean shook his head. “No! He hurt [y/n] and Glenn! And you decided to leave! So why are you here, huh? What brought you back?”

“We had a talk,” Merle said, voice muffled.

“Dean, let him go,” Rick said. With a huff, Dean got off of Merle and stalked back to the prison, not giving any of the men a second glance.

---

When Dean got back inside the safety of the intact fences, he gave Glenn a look.

“What’s wrong?” Glenn asked. “Is Rick okay?”

“Rick’s fine.” Dean glanced at the prison and clenched his fists.

“They’re both here, aren’t they?” Glenn said. Dean nodded and neither of them said anything, turning to go back inside.

---

Sam

When Sam saw Sophia get shot, he didn’t even think before his feet were moving and he was crouching beside her. He took his shirt off and was pressing it to the wound as Beth opened the door and Carl was covering them with his rifle.

Quickly, he got Sophia into the medical cell and sat her on the bunk. She was crying and even though it hurt Sam to see her like this, he knew it was a good sign.

“This is going to hurt,” Sam said before he gently peeled his shirt off of the wound. Sophia let out a muffled scream and Sam gently shushed her.

“I need to cut your shirt, okay?”

“Okay,” Sophia whimpered.

Sam cut the shirt and turned her so he could see both sides of her shoulder. Thankfully, there was an exit wound and Sam managed to stop the bleeding. Sophia had passed out due to the pain and Sam worked on stitching her up.

“Is she gonna be alright?” Carol said softly from the doorway. She had a bottle of water, a bowl, and some spare towels in her hands.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Sam said as he took the things from Carol. “I just have to clean and wrap it. We’ll have to keep an eye on it for a while, make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Oh thank god. Beth took Adeline and Carl to Judith. They’re startled but fine.” Carol sat down next to her daughter and that was when you came skidding to a halt outside of the cell.

“How’s she doing?” You said out of breath. Sam repeated what he said to Carol and you let out a breath of relief, your body sagging slightly.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that she’s gonna be okay.” You turned to Carol with teary eyes. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was getting them out of harm’s way but I only managed to get Sophia hurt.”

“It’s not your fault, honey,” Carol said soothingly. “You weren’t the one to shoot her.”

“Still.” You choked back a sob and walked out of the cell. Carol watched you go with sad eyes before turning her attention to her daughter.

---

It wasn’t long before everyone else filed inside. Merle was locked in the common area while you and everyone else, minus Carol and Sophia, were in the common area. Daryl had climbed the stairs to stand near you and Beth, but without even as much as a look in his direction, you went down to the lower level to stand near Michonne. You didn’t miss the slump of his shoulders or the little breath he let out, but you found yourself not caring.

“Rick, we need to leave,” you said, breaking the silence.

“We’re not leaving.”

“Well, we can’t stay here,” you shot back. Glancing up, you saw Daryl holding Adeline and you shook your head.

“What if there’s another sniper? Wood pallet won’t stop those rounds,” Maggie said.

“We can’t even go outside,” Beth chimed in quietly.

“Maybe not during the day, but we can at night.”

“If Rick say’s we’re not running, then we’re not running,” Glenn said.

“No. Better ta live like rats,” Merle said. You glared at him before turning your attention elsewhere

“You got any better ideas?” Rick said. “I’m all ears.”

“Yeah, we should’a left already. Lived ta fight another day. We lost that window though, didn’t we? I bet that he’s got scouts on every road outta this place by now.”

“We ain’t scared of that prick,” you heard Daryl say. You scoffed loudly and shook your head.

“We should be,” you said. Dean gave you a worried look but you didn’t see it.

“Sugar’s right. That truck through tha fence thing? That was just a welcome ta tha neighborhood from him. We might have some thick walls ta hide behind, but sooner or later he’s gonna come back. He got tha guns and tha numbers.”

“He needs to go in the other cell block,” Maggie said.

“No. He’s gotta point,” Daryl said.

“He might have a point, but I don’t want to see or hear him,” you said sharply. “This is all his fault!”

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is!” Beth said, coming down the stairs. “What are we gonna do?”

“I say we should leave. [Y/n] thinks so too. Now both Axel and Oscar are dead and Sophia got shot. We can’t just sit here,” Hershel said. Rick said nothing, turning around and walking away when Hershel yelled at him.

“You’re slipping, Rick,” Hershel said when Rick stopped walking. “We can all see it and we understand why. But now is not the time. You said that this wasn’t a democracy and now you have to own up to that.”

Rick turned to face Hershel and you propped yourself up against the wall, watching the show.

“I put my family’s life in your hands. So get your head clear before anyone else dies. You need to do something before anything else happens.”

Rick gave one last look to Hershel and his gaze landed on you. You met his gaze with your hardened look and Rick was the first one to look away before he walked out of the cell block. With a shake of your head, you pushed yourself off the wall and went to your cell to grab something. Walking back out, you almost ran into Daryl. He reached an arm out to steady you, but you flinched and stepped back.

“[Y/n], can we talk?” He asked you quietly.

“We have nothing to talk about. Now please move so I can leave.” Your voice was harsh and you saw hurt flash in Daryl’s eyes. He moved out of your way and you walked back down the stairs, sitting on the last step.

A few minutes later, Rick came back inside, sending Maggie on watch. Your brothers, Glenn, Michonne, Hershel, Daryl, and Rick stood near the other staircase and started making plans. You didn’t go over to them, knowing one of your brothers would fill you in later. It didn’t take long before Daryl was storming up the stairs, angry at Glenn for dissing his brother.

Soon after, Dean came up to you.

“What’s the plan?” You asked him, knowing full well there wasn’t a plan.

“We don’t have one,” he said with a sigh.

“Figured.”

“[Y/n], I’m gonna say something and I need you to listen,” Dean said after a moment.

“I’m not talking to him,” you said sharply.

“You have to, [y/n]. He’s back and sure, he brought the asshat with him, but you know Daryl.”

“Not as well as I thought. He left when we needed him. When I needed him. He just left!” Your voice was getting louder, not caring who could hear.

“It was his brother, [y/n]. Don’t say that you wouldn’t have done the same if it was me or Sammy,” Dean said, crossing his arms.

“Don’t. Don’t compare yourselves to a man who helps his buddy almost rape someone!” You were yelling now and you didn’t notice Daryl standing at the top of the steps, Carol right next to him.

“The Governor did what?” Daryl said, voice low.

“So now you care? Didn’t seem to when you left,” you said, whirling around to glare at Daryl. “You chose that douchebag over your real family.”

“I didn’t know.”

Everyone else decided that it was a good time to make themselves scarce and soon it was only you and Daryl in the cell block.

“Do you want to know what he did to me? Your brother and the Governor?”

Daryl said nothing and you took it as your cue to keep talking.

“Your brother held me at gunpoint, threatening my life to make Glenn do what he wanted. He hit me on the head when I tried to get out of his hold. Then, he locked me in a room and tied me to a chair. That’s when I had to hear him beating the shit out of Glenn. Merle sicced a walker on him, Daryl. For a few minutes, I thought that Glenn had died. No sound was coming from that room anymore. That’s when the Governor came into my room.”

“Did he r—“

“Rape me? No. But he came damn close to it. The sick bastard forced me to take my shirt off. Said if I didn’t, he’d bring me Glenn’s hand. He touched me, slammed me down on a table. He pointed a gun at my stomach to make us say what he wanted, knowing I was pregnant. That’s the man your brother took us too. The man he’s friends with.”

“They ain’t friends no more, [y/n].”

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, shaking your head. “You still decided to leave with him, Daryl.”

“And I realized that I chose wrong. I came back.” There was a desperation in Daryl’s voice that you had never heard and you looked into his eyes.

“You’re right. You came back. But the trust that we’ve built up is gone. It’s gonna take a lot to get it back to where it was.”

---

The next day, you got a surprise visit from someone you thought you’d never see again. Andrea. When Carl had come into the cell block and announced that Andrea was here, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Andrea? She’s alive?” You asked.

“Apparently,” Rick said.

Everyone got guns ready and you watched as your brothers followed Rick and Daryl outside. You went onto the catwalk with Glenn and Carol, rifle at the ready. Andrea was leading a walker by the throat and you felt no pity for her when Rick held her against the fence and checked her for weapons.

Tearing your eyes away from her, you scanned the tree line, looking to see if she was alone or not. You saw nothing out of the ordinary and when you saw nothing, you walked back inside with Carol, Glenn close behind.

You stayed up on the second level while Andrea was reconnecting with everyone. You were glad to see her alive, but something about her felt off.

“Where’s Shane?” She asked. Rick shook his head and Andrea asked, “And Lori?”

“Lori didn’t make it. She had a girl,” Hershel said.

“Neither did T-Dog,” Maggie said.

“I’m so sorry.” She looked at Carl with pity on her face. Carl hung his head and Dean squeezed his shoulder. When she tried to talk to Rick, he backed up slightly and Andrea thought it might be good to change the subject.

“You all live here?” She asked.

“Here and the cell block,” Glenn said.

“There? Can I see?” Andrea went to walk inside but Rick and Sam got in her way.

“I can’t allow that,” Rick said quietly.

“I’m not the enemy, Rick.”

“We had that field and courtyard completely clear until your boyfriend tore down the fence and shot us up.”

“You’re the Governor’s girlfriend?” Dean said, voice sharp. He looked at Rick. “Why is she still here?”

“Why would I not be here?” Andrea said, looking at Dean with a confused look.

“Well, let’s see. Your boyfriend assaulted me, tried to kill Daryl, and shot up our home,�� you said.

“Assaulted?” Andrea shook her head. “No way. He wouldn’t do that.”

“You keep telling yourself that, honey,” you said with a cold laugh. “Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

Andrea just glared at you and turned her attention back to Rick.

“He said you fired first.” Andrea said, ignoring you and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s lying,” Rick said.

“He killed two inmates who survived here and shot Sophia,” Hershel said.

“We liked those inmates. They was part of this group,” Daryl said. “And [y/n] ain’t lyin’.”

“I didn’t know anything about that. Any of it. I came as soon as I found out.” She turned and looked at everyone. “I didn’t even know that it was you in Woodbury until after the shootout.”

“That was days ago,” Glenn said.

“I told you, I came as soon as I could.”

No one said a word and Andrea whipped around to face Michonne.

“What have you told them?” Andrea accused.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t get it. I left Atlanta with you guys and now I’m the odd one out?”

“He almost killed Michonne and he would have killed us,” Dean said. “My little sister and Glenn were almost executed on his orders.”

“With his finger on the trigger!” Andrea pointed at Merle. She turned to Glenn. “Isn’t he the one who kidnapped you? Beat you?”

“At least it wasn’t my boyfriend who assaulted someone, almost killed two innocent people, and had one of his men shoot a child,” you said. Andrea looked up at you to see you casually leaning against the wall, rifle in hand.

“Look, I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done. But I am here to bring us all together. We have to work this out.”

You snorted and she sent you glare.

“There’s nothing to work out because we’re gonna kill him,” Rick said. “I don’t know how or when, but we will.”

“We can settle this. There’s room for you all at Woodbury.”

“Ya know better than that,” Merle said.

“For once, I agree with the douchebag,” you said. Sam choked back a laugh and you cracked a smile.

“What makes you think he wants to negotiate?” Hershel asked Andrea.

“Did he say that?” Sam asked.

“No. He didn’t.” Andrea shook her head. You rolled your eyes.

“Then why’d you come?”

“He’s gearing up for war,” Andrea said as she looked at Rick. “The people are terrified, they see you as killers. They’re training to attack.”

“Tell ya what. Next time ya see Philip, tell him I’m gonna take his other eye,” Daryl growled.

“We’ve taken too much shit for far too long. He wants a war? Then he’s got one,” Glenn said.

“Rick, if you don’t sit down and try to work this out, I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Andrea said, trying to stop the fighting.

“No matter what, people are gonna die,” you said.

“You’ve lost so much already, you can’t be alone anymore.”

“You wanna make this right? Get us inside,” Rick said.

“No.”

“Then we got nothing to talk about.” Rick walked back into the cell block, not listening to Andrea trying to keep him there.

“There’s innocent people!” She called after him.

“There’s innocent people in both parties,” Carol said.

“They have kids, we have kids. They also have people who don’t care who they hurt, as long as they get what they want. All we want is to be left alone but your boyfriend is crazy,” you said, walking down the stairs. “He’s not going to leave us alone and he’s going to keep trying to kill us. To keep my family safe, to keep these kids from dying, I will do anything I need to do.”

You were now almost two feet away from Andrea.

“Now you need to make a choice. Help the people you’ve gone through so much with? The people that consider you part of their family? Or help the man you’re just fucking to feel something. Your choice.” Giving her a salute, you turned on your heel and walked into the cell block.

---

When Andrea was finally leaving, you were up on the catwalk with Hershel, Adeline hiding behind you. Andrea had waved bye to Adeline, but she just gripped your hand and hid herself behind your legs. Andrea’s face had fallen but you didn’t care. Adeline might be young, but she was smart enough to realize that Andrea was on the wrong side and didn’t like her for it.

You could barely hear what they were saying below you, but you didn’t care anyways. Andrea gave you bad vibes and you knew the rest of your group, they felt it too.

You had heard what Carol had suggested she do and you already knew she didn’t have the guts to do it. Watching as she took off in the car Rick gave her, you shook your head and walked back inside, Adeline trailing behind you.

For the rest of the day, you opted to stay inside your cell with your daughter instead of hanging around with everyone else. You could hear Beth singing when night fell and the sounds washed over you. Closing your eyes, you fell asleep to her voice.

#New World #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead x reader #reader insert #The Walking Dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl x reader #twd

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thedumpsterqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Standards of Performance, Chapter 6: Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Finally, I write most of the chapter before the day I’m supposed to post it. This was mostly done on my laptop (which I’m not used to) as we just moved and my PC is barely set up, so forgive anything that looks weird or wonky. As always, I hope you enjoy. I love getting all your kind messages <3 (Also message me if you want to be on the taglist - I suppose I should be better about that!)

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 6, Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter Summary: Events during a new case test your ability to keep your feelings hidden, and a night out takes an unforeseen turn.

Words: 3736

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Turns out, lying to Hotch was easier than you thought.

It helped that you were lying to yourself too, of course - that you pretended your gaze didn't linger on his form whenever he was in your vicinity, that the swell of pride in your chest when he agreed with something you said was purely professional. There were times, though, that the facade was much harder to maintain. The most recent case had been one of those times.

You had been tracking down an unsub abducting children in a rural Iowa town. Three kids had gone missing in the span of two weeks, and after Garcia matched the victimology and MO with neighboring states, it looked to be close to a dozen in the years before that. The case started off rough enough - locals refused to believe it could be one of their own, police resisted the BAU’s guidance, the usual - but it came to a head when a fourth child went missing during the investigation.

Thankfully, the team figured out the identity of the unsub relatively quickly. Reid did a geographical profile of all the locations where victims were taken and found a public health clinic that had branches in each area. Garcia cross-checked the employee records to find that only one doctor had done travel shifts at each clinic during the time the children were taken, and within minutes, you were rushing to his address.

The SUV carrying Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss arrived long enough before yours that by the time you pulled up, they were already kicking down the door and entering the home. The first thing you heard after you flung the car door open was the deafening crack of a weapon firing, and despite your lack of training with firearms, it was apparent that it was not an FBI-issue pistol.

You would never describe yourself as fragile - you couldn't be, not in this line of work. But when you registered the implications of that sound, your knees buckled, instantly bringing you down onto the dusty ground outside the farmhouse. The rest of the team sprinted in, guns drawn. You faintly registered Prentiss yelling inside, then more gunshots, but your head was ringing so loudly from the visceral panic that you couldn’t make out anything specific.

When Hotch burst back out onto the porch, you thought you might honestly sob with relief. That is, until you caught the glint of the sun in the slick, dark blood dripping down the sleeve of his suit.

That was when you puked.

Something about the sight of Aaron Hotchner bleeding felt so wrong that even as you struggled to your feet and stepped over the pile of sick you left in the dirt, even as you got closer and saw the rivulets of blood drip down to his fingertips and dot the wooden floors of the porch, you felt like you were in a dream. Your mind couldn’t grasp the sudden shock of his mortality, that he could bleed, that he could die, even, and he very well might, depending on what vessels were hit. You made it up the steps, only managing to call out his name - his first name - your throat still burning from bile. Despite the chaos of the current moment, he still whipped his head around at the sound of that, as if hearing the name Aaron desperately falling from your lips was more attention-grabbing than the rest of the team gathering around him trying to stem the bleeding.

“It looks worse than it is,” said Rossi, peering through the holes in Hotch’s mangled sleeve. “It was just buckshot, and he barely hit you. Nothing a few stitches won’t fix.”

He turned out to be right, thank god, and later that afternoon, Hotch was freshly bandaged and sitting across from you on the return flight to Quantico.

So, yeah, the “lying to yourself” thing wasn’t going so well at that moment. Hotch was absorbed in paperwork while the rest of the team napped - because of course he was; even being shot didn’t sway his apparently relentless refusal to relax - and each time he winced at the movement of his arm, your vice grip around your chest tightened a little more.

He must have sensed you staring, because he looked up, frown softening slightly as he saw the concern on your face.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” he assured you with a half smile.

Teetering on an emotional precipice, too scared to respond for fear of falling over the edge, you went back to your reading. After a few minutes of listening to him write while not turning a single page in your book, he set his pen down and took a breath.

“You were screaming my name,” he said, quietly, despite you two being the only ones awake.

“What?”

“Earlier,” he clarified, “when we went into the house. I could hear you outside, yelling my name.”

You looked at him, incredulous. “Of course I did. I heard the shotgun go off. Clearly,” you gestured at his arm, “I had a reason to be worried.”

He shook his head and cleared his throat, as if you didn’t understand the question. “Dave and Emily were with me. Any of us could have gotten hit. You only yelled for me.”

Oh.

You shrugged. “You’re the team leader. It’s my instinct to call for you when something goes wrong."

It was a lie, and a bad one at that, but Hotch gave you an unreadable look and let the subject drop.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and when you finally made it back to your apartment, you had no plans other than to sleep off the stress of the case and the embarrassment of Hotch calling your actions into question. Garcia, however, wasn't about to let that happen.

BAU-tiful People Group Chat

Garcia: *added You to the conversation*

Garcia: Ok, my lovely children, I know you’re all tired, but I miss your faces, so I’ll see u at Whimsy tonight at 9! Notice I didn’t use a question mark bc it is NOT a question!

You knew from overhearing the team talk that Whimsy was a bar downtown they liked to frequent, but you’d never been invited before. Despite your overwhelming exhaustion, the idea of going out with the team, of finally feeling accepted by them, was enough to make you amenable to the concept. It may have seemed insignificant on the surface, but Garcia adding you to their group chat was the biggest welcome gesture you’d received yet.

Morgan: Only if you wear that dress you know I like ;)

You lived for the day they would realize they were actually flirting with each other instead of just pretending to.

Prentiss: Garcia… you’re killing me… but you know I’ll be there.

JJ: Contacting the babysitter as we speak.

Morgan: Fuck yeah!!! Pretty Boy, you in?

Reid: Can’t we ever go somewhere quiet?

As the group chimed in with various iterations of, “Shut up, Reid,” you hesitantly typed out a text to confirm your attendance. You were excited, of course, but nervous to be the new kid at their favorite hangout. After today's events, though, the desire not to be sober won out over nerves.

You: I’ll be there! Thanks for the invite!

Rossi: Hope you kids are ready for me to drink you under the table, as usual.

Morgan: Eyyy, you KNOW we party hard! See y’all tonight.

____________

Turns out, Morgan was not exaggerating. Not even a little bit. By the time you arrived, 15 minutes late, everyone looked to be at least 3 shots deep. Garcia ran over to greet you, squealing, and wrapped you in a suffocating hug.

“I’m so glad you came! What do you drink? Tequila? I’ll grab the next round!”

You laughed and confirmed that tequila sounded great, and as she scurried off to the bar with Morgan on her heels, you had a chance to look around.

The atmosphere of the club surprised you - it was all glass and steel and modernity, packed with people dancing to something with intense bass - not the low-key joint you’d pictured the team wanting to unwind at. But as you watched JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi cheer on Reid as he threw back a shot, doubling over in hysterics as he coughed and sputtered at the taste, you realized that this place was just loud and energetic enough to keep them from thinking about anything other than work. In that way, you definitely saw the appeal.

“I come bearing shots!” Garcia yelled as her and Morgan made it back to the table. “Grab yours… here we go- whoops! Alright, everyone got theirs?”

She turned to you, grinning behind a pair of hot pink spectacles. “Cheers not ONLY to rescuing four kidnapped children alive, but also to our lovely intern and her first Whimsy outing!”

The team erupted in cheers and you smiled back, downing the tequila. You chatted with the group while Garcia ordered more drinks, and then more drinks, and soon you felt a pleasant buzz filling your head.

“Morgan, you better ask me to dance right now before I go find another man to do the job,” Garcia said with a wink in his direction.

Morgan grinned and mock-bowed, holding out a hand for her to take, and led her off to the dancefloor.

“Should we join them?” JJ asked around the table.

“Someone’s gotta make sure they don’t do anything worth getting kicked out for,” Prentiss shot back. You giggled and followed the girls, leaving Rossi and Reid behind at the table in the midst of a heated debate about childhood brain development that you couldn’t even hope to comprehend.

Not long after you started dancing, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder and turned around, looking up into the stunning green eyes of a man who looked to be about your age. It was hard to really tell what he looked like in the dim lighting, but by the way Prentiss was giving you a thumbs up and mouthing, “Go for it,” from your side, he was good enough for you.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked above the music. You smiled and nodded in confirmation, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to his hips.

He knew how to move, that was for certain. He ground against your backside lightly, snaking his hands around your stomach. You weren’t used to this kind of thing - dancing with random men at bars, letting them touch you like this - but the combination of the music and the booze and the relief at the last case being over was making you feel more free than you had in recent memory.

You exchanged grins with Morgan, who was dancing a few feet away in a much more R-rated manner with Garcia. The man behind you (whose name you didn’t know, but who cared?) leaned down to kiss your neck and you arched against him in response, reaching up to run your hand through his hair.

Throughout the song, you had rotated back to facing the table where the rest of your team was sitting. You glanced over, saw Reid and Rossi still deep in discussion, along with another man in a black button-up with a very familiar side profile and-

Hotch.

Hotch was here, and as if the powers that be were insistent upon proving to you that the opposite of serendipity existed, at the exact moment you had that realization, he turned and made direct eye contact with you. Drunk, wearing a skintight dress, a random man grinding on your ass, and staring right back at your Unit Chief at the motherfucking Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and if you had been drunker, you might have hurled tequila all over the dancefloor. Instead, you pulled away from the mystery man behind you, ignoring his shocked, “Wait!” and beelined to the bar.

“Tequila. Shot. Please, I’m sorry, just saw someone I didn’t expect to,” you blurted out to the bartender, swearing you could feel Hotch’s eyes on your back from across the club.

The bartender, probably having seen much worse, nodded in understanding and poured your drink. You gulped it down, wiped your mouth, and leaned on the bar to get your bearings.

It’s not weird. It’s not. It’s a bar, it’s outside of work hours, it’s perfectly fine that you’re buzzed and dancing and having fun. Everyone else is!

Really, it wasn’t that you were worried about your job, or even that he would judge you (he probably would, but that was unavoidable regardless of the setting), it was just that you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for the possibility that he would come. He was in the group chat - obviously, if he had seen Garcia’s invite - but had never struck you as the social type, the kind of boss that would interact with his team outside of work.

“Did you see that Hotch is here?” Prentiss asked breathlessly, appearing at the bar beside you.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one surprised.

“I did,” you whispered back, despite the thumping music and the rowdy patrons making it logically impossible for your words to reach the table 20 feet away. “Does he usually join you guys?”

“Never,” she said, before thinking and correcting herself, “Not in years, anyways. When Haley… we used to drag him out, but we stopped after a while.”

“Why do you think he came tonight?"

She shrugged. “Who knows? Far be it from me to explain why Hotch does anything.” An idea seemed to pop in her head, and she grinned. “Maybe it’s because of you!”

“M-me?” Your reaction to the suggestion wasn’t nearly as nonchalant as you’d tried for, but Prentiss was too drunk to notice.

“Yeah, gotta help initiate the intern on her first night out, right?” She grinned and clapped you on the shoulder, then turned away to head back to the dancefloor, leaving you alone. You sighed, gathered yourself as much as you could considering the effects of the tequila, and turned around to go greet him.

“Hey, Agent Hotchner. Didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Yes, well. Thought I’d show up for a bit; it’s been a while.” He gave you a tight lipped smile then looked back down at his glass of whisky, the awkward energy palpable.

Probably because he just saw you basically dry-humping some random dude.

“Well, I’m glad you came! Feel free to, uh, come dance if you want! Morgan and Garcia are showing us all up,” you said, gesturing to where Morgan and Garcia were in fact drawing the attention of several onlookers.

He chuckled at that. “They’re certainly a sight to behold, aren’t they?”

You nodded in agreement and headed back to the bar, the brief conversation pointing you towards yet another drink. Talking to him was so easy , sometimes, and others it was like pulling teeth to get a human response out of him. Could you blame him, though? Your last one-on-one interaction was you basically inviting yourself over to his apartment with takeout and listening to him spill his guts about his dead wife and kid, and he probably felt uncomfortable with you after that, and then you went right to this case without any chance for things to go back to normal, and then he got shot, and oh my god, you didn’t even ask him how his arm was doing, how fucking rude can you be, dumbass? and-

“Whoops! Shit, I’m sorry!”

You looked at the person you’d just bumped into in the midst of your internal crisis.

“Hey, it’s you!”

The man you’d been dancing with earlier, now much more obviously handsome in the brighter lights of the bar area, grinned in recognition.

“Hey, I thought I’d scared you off there!”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. Just saw my boss and freaked out a little bit.”

“Oh shit, your boss is here?” he asked. “That’s uncomfortable, damn. I’m sorry.”

“No worries, it’s just… yeah. Anyways. Wanna pick up where we left off?” you asked, more desperate than ever to get Hotch out of your head. If he didn’t want to see you having a wild night, he shouldn’t have come to the club.

He took your hand, looking pleased. “Lead the way.”

It really was so much easier, you thought, to let yourself feel attraction for guys like this. Uncomplicated, willing to take what you give them, no backstory to speak of. They weren’t riddled with tragic history, unattainable in both position and personality, not to mention impossible to even imagine ever returning your feelings. Guys like Cooper (you’d finally learned his name somewhere amid the grinding and groping) were easy and fun and they didn’t keep you up at night agonizing over whether that thing you said at work was impressive enough.

But then again, they didn’t give you the roller-coaster feeling in your stomach that Aaron Hotchner did every time you locked eyes.

And lock eyes you did - an increasingly frequent number of times, actually. It seemed like whenever you turned to face his direction, he was staring you down. He always went back to his conversation with Rossi and Reid, but you noticed that he seemed to get more and more pissed off with every song that played. His frown was deepened, his expression dark, and you could tell even from a distance that his knuckles were white from gripping his glass.

You shrugged it off as Hotch being Hotch - who knew what that man was thinking? And besides, you were trying to forget him, damn it. At least, that was until a particularly raunchy song came on and you were in the middle of getting your ass felt up, when you felt a hand squeeze your shoulder and whip you around, bringing you face-to-face with your boss himself.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is something wrong?” you asked, utterly bewildered as to why he was interrupting you.

He ignored you, instead staring down Cooper, who very quickly decided Hotch wasn’t one to fuck with and walked away.

“Hotch! Is there a case? Should I grab the others?”

He shook his head. “Can you come with me, please?”

Perplexed, you acquiesced (not that you had much of a choice, with the way he was gripping your elbow) and followed him through the crowd, out the back door, and into an alley. He let go of you then, sighing and crossing his arms.

Your mind was wild with questions - did you do something you shouldn’t have? Get too drunk? Everyone was drunk, though, and you weren’t even half as wasted as some of the others. Did Reid or Rossi tell him something bad about you? Were you about to somehow get yourself fired off the clock?

“The boy you were dancing with was bad news,” he said, after an uncomfortably long period of silence.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” you repeated, this time out loud, and you knew you shouldn’t be talking to him like this, but you were too caught off guard to conduct yourself more appropriately.

“He was a drug user,” Hotch said, as if that would explain everything.

“A drug user,” you repeated back, no less confused.

“Cocaine,” he continued. “He was high - his pupils were dilated, he was rubbing his nose, and he's been to the bathroom several times.”

“So… you’re going to arrest him? For doing cocaine?” you asked, still baffled as to what he was insinuating.

“What? No,” he said, “I’m trying to warn you not to get involved.”

You had entered some parallel universe, you decided. There was no other explanation for your boss, a man you’d known all of four months, dragging you outside a bar on a Friday night and telling you not to dance with a hot stranger because he was on cocaine.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you really did get yourself fired. “Sir, I appreciate the concern, but I don’t think it’s really any of your business.”

His face hardened at that. “It is exactly my business,” he said, eyes boring a hole through your skull, “to watch out for things that may compromise my team.”

“Compromise your team?” you repeated his words again. “I was dancing, not getting engaged to the guy.”

“Should I allow you to dance with a sexual sadist if it’s just dancing?” he pressed, using the stern voice that usually caused any sort of dissent to whither and die right in your throat.

It didn’t work this time, probably because he was acting fucking insane. “Are you seriously comparing a sexual sadist to a guy who does cocaine while he’s out partying?”

“It’s not just while he’s out partying, by the way he conducted himself, he was a chronic-”

“It doesn’t matter!” you said, nearly yelling now. “You had no right! I'm sorry, what are you, my dad?!”

His eyes flashed at that. “If I hadn’t already had to sit through an 8 hour surgery not knowing if Garcia was going to make it out alive because her date shot her, then perhaps I would have no right. But as it stands, I do. Please be more careful with who you associate with, even if it’s just dancing.”

He spat that last part out, more vitriolic than you’d ever seen him, and stalked back inside. You were left outside in the alley, alone, reeling from confusion surrounding the entire interaction and shock at the emotional charge he’d leveled at you.

Reentering the bar, you saw that Hotch’s seat had been vacated and his jacket was gone. You rolled your eyes, and on your way to the bathroom, nearly ran into Cooper again.

“Hey!” he said. “What was that all about? You good?”

You looked up at his face and for the first time, noticed faint traces of white dust around his nose. He looked keyed up, jumpy - his pulse racing and visible on his carotid. You sighed.

“I’m good. Just not in the mood right now, sorry,” and pushed past him into the bathroom.

Hotch was an emotionally stunted asshole with a control complex, but he was also never fucking wrong.

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creativeskullcreations · 4 years ago

Text

Outside chapter 22: United and Split

There maybe three to four chapters to go after this one. Which is good cause I'm running out of chapter titles lol. It's harder than you'd think trying to come up with a unique one for each chapter.

Also I based the way Daisy looks off of some old fanart that showed her using a lot of Host arms and hands for legs. I just added the empty eye sockets, which she did herself to scare the Mason and Lisa. I wrote that bit before this came out.

Anyways next chapter should be out in about two weeks, as usual. The Show's about to begin, and you don't want to miss it.

"So where do you think Scout would be in here, anyways?" Lisa asked as they wandered around a room full of creepy mannequins.

"You know, I'll bet she's not in-fucking-here!" Mason answered as he did his best to keep away from the half made puppets. "Lisa seriously why are we even in here it's so creepy! Even the Puppets agree!" And it was true, as he held both Puppets in his arms, both of which had remained silent and almost fearful as the humans explored.

"Supplies!" She announced cheerfully from where she was shoving different colored fabrics into her pockets. "We may need some of this down the line."

"... I don't think the fabric in here is any different from the fabric at Walmart." He pointed out, and she just rolled her eyes as she gathered some more up. She picked up a pair of shiny sewing scissors, turning to show him.

"Look at these! They look so sharp." She held them up and he got closer to examine them. "Looks like they could put someones eye out."

"Yeah, great. Now put them back, and let's go!" His voice dropped to an intense whisper, and she rolled her eyes, shoving them into her pocket with the fabric.

"Fine." She groaned out, taking the little yellow and orange Puppet back. "Let's go see if we can find the others."

They walked out of the room, pausing when something tipped over behind them. Turning back to look, they saw a mannequin had been knocked over. They quickly turned back around and hurried away from the door.

"Lisa."

"Yeah?"

"Please tell me you did that."

Lisa let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "That would be lying, Mason. You know I don't do that."

"Okay." He swallowed to get his voice pitch back in place. "Run!"

They sprinted down the hall, listening as something skittered behind them, steadily getting closer. Mason spotted the crossroads up ahead. "We gotta split up!"

"What?! I am not leaving you to face whatever that thing is alone!" Lisa shrieked, pulling him down the right hand corridor.

"It can't chase both of us!" He stumbled, glancing to catch sight of a spider-like Puppet. "Oh SHIT!" He pulled ahead, spotting Lisa looking back and going pale from the corner of his eye. She pulled ahead of him, grabbing his arm and dragging him down the hall as she tried to gain some distance.

A few seconds after they passed a door it was thrown open, with gunshots following. Mason took the chance to yank out of Lisa's grip and turn, delivering a sharp kick to the thing's face.

Blonde hair and a torn, red dress stumbled back on many flesh and wooden hands. Her head snapped back into place, staring at him with empty eye sockets. With a wordless cry she launched herself at Mason but was stopped by Stacy catching her with the axe.

She smacked against the wall, sliding to the floor as Will finally finished reloading. He fired off four more shots into the Puppet's head, and they watched her sag against the wall. Sammy snatched the axe from Stacy's hands and used it to fully chop her head off, just in case.

For a long moment, nobody moved. And then Bonzai let out a cheer while Stacy stumbled over to a corner and vomited.

"That was totally awesome!" He yelled, and was quickly muffled by Mason.

"For this, Mortimer will kill every Host." Stitch muttered in horror. "And then he'll blame us all the most."

"I can't believe you fucking killed Daisy..." Bit whispered, and Sammy turned towards her in horror.

"That was Daisy?!" Now that she'd said it, he could see the resemblance. Her apron and jewelry were gone and her hair was chipped, but she was still recognizable in the dim light now that he knew.

Will grabbed a loose sheet from nearby and spread it out over the ground, then loaded up the two pieces of Puppet into it while Lisa moved to check on Stacy. "You okay Stacy? You look really pale."

"'M fine." She muttered, wiping her mouth. "Just... didn't really..." She gagged again, and Lisa rubbed her back sympathetically.

"It's okay, hon. You still did great." 'She should've stayed back in the car. Why didn't she follow the plan?' "What the hell are you doing, Will?"

"I am not leaving this thing here to come up behind us later. Besides, we should probably make sure to burn any corpses we make." He held up his makeshift bag. "Scout told me this one is what was making them." He indicated the Handpuppets. "So her, and the other wooden Puppets, we absolutely can't leave behind."

"He's right." Stacy agreed hoarsely. "We leave any of them with a chance of being alive and they'll just do it again, after hunting us all down."

A long, silent pause as they all took that in. "We're burning this fucking place to the ground." Mason muttered. "I am not spending the rest of life looking over my shoulder for stupid freaky Puppets."

"We will. After we get Scout and knock out the rest of these guys." Will indicated the bag again. "So, which one of you knows how to get to her?" He glared at the Handpuppets held by his friends, eyes lingering on Stacy for just a moment.

More silence, as Hosts and Puppets glanced between each other. Will sighed, debating whether to try and choose someone to intimidate for the information. There weren't a lot of options, but luckily the little orange and green one with the bad hair cut spoke up.

"Canon knows." Bonzai started, quietly. He shrunk back when everyone turned to look at him, but continued. "She was helping Mortimer with something to do with Scout. But, I followed her when she went to spy on him. I know where he did his... practices. And where he put Scout."

"Can you take us there?" Stacy asked, almost timidly.

"Yeah, but we should probably hurry. He was planning something... really bad."

Mason led the way, guided by Bonzai's directions and the group followed, Will bringing up the rear with the bag, which would move by itself every now and then. A quick shake and a few discreet kicks kept the monster inside down, however, with no one else the wiser.

-----

"Hmmm, you've truly gotten yourself in a pickle now, haven't you? Would be a shame if someone brought Mortimer's attention to this too." Nick muttered smugly, fitting Riley's yanked off arm back together. The other one had been sawed off near the shoulder, and would require more extensive care. If Mortimer allowed him to perform it, of course.

"Quiet you blithering idiot!" Riley snapped, Host shaking from her anger. "Or shall I tell him what happened to his favorite Sock Puppet!"

"No need to go that far sister dear. We both have things hidden here." A pause as he finally popped the joint back together. "What should we do about those strays? There's no way they can be allowed to stay."

"Obviously not!" She agreed hotly, testing out her repaired limb. "But we can't just drive them out. They're here for that little traitor Scout."

"What makes you so sure? Could just be another group here for treasure." He crossed his arms, watching as her Host hobbled about the room. 'Looks like it's leg is broken. She'll need a new one.'

"That male with the brown hair is what kept me from her Host. He shot at me, so in the end he's worth the most." She explained, collecting some knives from a nearby table.

"Ah, that makes sense." He looked around the room. "Is he the one who made thi-"

"Yes!" She hissed, digging a dog whistle out from her pocket. She blew into it, sound the couldn't hear echoing through the halls. A howl answered her, not too far away based on the volume of it. "And I'll fucking kill him myself!"

"Good luck with that." If Riley was going to break rhyme, then so would he, at least for a moment. "Shall we go get Daisy for this little hunting party?"

"No, leave her to her stitching." Riley watched as Rosco came out of the shadows and into her dimly lit lab. "We'll be needing those Puppets by the morning."

-----

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Bit complained, hanging over Sammy's shoulder. Her, Bonzai's, and Stitch's flashlights were on, as the lights in the building had gone out. More likely, they had been turned off, but given the age and state of the building it could've just been a blown fuse. Either way, it was too dark to see and the Hosts hadn't brought any lights themselves.

"Yes, I'm sure." The male Puppet ground out. "The Sound Stage is down here now."

"How the hell do you even know? You went there through the vents!"

"At least I actually went there!" Bonzai turned to yell, blinding Sammy. "You just stayed in our room like a coward!"

"Okay! Everybody chill for a sec!" Lisa cut in, stepping between them. Let's focus on the goal, and then have a fight when we get out of here."

"No, we're doing this now!" Bit announced, launching herself over the blonde's head and onto Bonzai, who gave a high pitched scream.

Mason sighed, grabbing the two by the backs of their shirts and pulling them apart. "Would you two stop! You're going to get us all killed!" He hissed. He handed Bit off to Stacy, missing the glint in her eyes as she stared down at the red and blue Puppet.

"She started it." Bonzai grumbled, crossing his arms. He didn't relax his tensed shoulders until he was held properly again.

"I don't care who started it!" Will piped up from the back. "If we don't get moving, I'm gonna go up there and finish it!"

There was some more grumbling, but the two Puppets settled down into silence. A while passed as Stitch looked between the two Hosts holding her siblings. 'What an odd way to handle things.' She mused. 'I wonder if this is how they handle Scout. Seems easier than the usual way, at least.

They continued to walk, until Bonzai finally stopped them. "We're here." He said, quietly. "The Sound Stage is just up ahead, through those doors."

"Mortimer's definitely gonna be in there." Bit added.

"So we need a plan, then." Lisa piped up, and everyone turned to look at Will, who was kicking the bag again. He stopped as he felt their eyes on him.

"What?" He shrugged. "I don't know shit about that guy. Ask her." He pointed at Stacy, who looked a bit taken aback.

"Uuuuh go in there and shoot him?" She suggested, after a long moment of thinking. Sammy and Will facepalmed, with her cousin mumbling something.

"Okay." Will sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Good start I guess. But we need a little bit more than that."

"You have that axe." Mason pointed out. "Maybe do something with that."

"No, okay, here's the plan. You three stay out here with the other Puppets. Me and her will go in there and get St-Scout. Then we all run for the exit, and go from there." Will laid out. "Quick, in-and-out, grab-and-go."

"Oh, yeah, nothing can go wrong with that." Bit mumbled, and was shushed.

"Sounds like a decent Plan A. What if something goes wrong?" Sammy asked, even as he accepted Bit from Stacy.

"Then we wing it. Improvise." A pause. "You guys should probably grab some weapons just in case."

With those three distracted, Will started pulling Stacy towards the door, leaning in the whisper dangerously. "We get out of here and you swap back immediately." He hissed. "And never do something like that during a time like this ever again."

"Yeah okay you fuck." Scout hissed back as they crept towards the door. With a quiet count to three, Will reached out, and turned the handle, opening it just enough for them to sneak in.

#hello puppets #outside #fanfiction #riley ruckus #daisy danger #scout #nick nack #canon #bonzai #bit #stitch #will carson #Lisa Montgomery #Mason Kamiya #sammy davis

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noladyme · 4 years ago

Text

Chess. Chapter 2

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

---------------------------------------------------

TW: abuse, language, blood, sexual themes, harassment

The soldiers around me were scrambling, confused. I missed this, I admitted to myself.

G.I. – Flag, Boss Lady had called him – stood, mouth agape, still pointlessly aiming his silly gun, and I couldn’t help myself. I quietly snuck up behind his tall frame, got on my toes, and whispered.

“Cat got your tongue?”.

He quickly spun around, rage in his eyes, and I jumped back, as he struck towards the direction of my voice. His hand swiped at my midsection, fingers reaching the cut on my stomach. He felt it, and I moved backwards quietly, still concentrating on keeping up the mirage, through the pain. Looking at his fingers, he saw my blood on them.

“Goggles!”, he yelled. The Tweedles, and the soldiers storming out of the vans, put on some weird looking glasses. Flag put on his own, and turned towards me, looking straight into my face.

“There you are”, he smiled. Panicking, I ran. I could hear voices behind me, yelling at me to stop. Confusion hit me, as I didn’t hear any gunfire; but fear won me over, so without hesitation, I kept going.

Narrowly avoiding being grabbed by a Tweedle, I scaled the hood of one of their vans, stomping across the roof, and jumped onto the ground behind it.

“She’s outside my 30 foot range”, a voice behind me shouted, as another closer voice answered; “I still got her in sight”.

How are they seeing me?, I questioned myself, realizing their googles must have some temperature device connected to them. They must have gotten those from the Bat. Fuck, I thought. I just had to stay far enough away from them, so that my projection could blend in with the surroundings.

Knocking over a trash can, I sped down the sidewalk. Behind me I heard Flags voice.

“I got her. 20 feet ahead!”, he thundered, running impossibly fast, closing up on me.

I gotta quit smoking, I thought, feeling my heart desperately pump blood and oxygen through my system; keeping me moving, but also keeping up my mirage. I knew I wouldn’t last forever. I’d run out of energy too soon, having to keep up speed and invisibility.

Turning around another corner, I was greeted by a busy street, full of taxicabs and trucks. As it was after midnight, most normal people had gone inside, and were now sleeping behind their rolled down curtains. Had they been looking outside, they’d see a group of soldiers, clad in grey, storming down the street, machineguns lifted, aiming at someone who wasn’t there. I couldn’t help but see the humor in the scene.

Flag was gaining on me, his men following close behind. The sidewalk was cleared of people, except for the occasional lady of the night, offering her service to the cabdrivers. I ran into the street, and almost got hit by a truck whose driver couldn’t see me.

“Shit, she ran into traffic”, Flag yelled. “Spread out! 3 o’clock, 15 feet”. I wanted to smash his stupid glasses into his handsome face.

Crossing the street, I turned, and ran down an alley. My chest heaved, and I had a metallic taste in my mouth. It was a dead end. I was greeted by a graffitied wall, displaying the image of a large grinning mouth, with golden teeth. “Ha Ha Ha” was written in bold script underneath it. This was Clown territory, and for a hot second I didn’t know whether to be more worried about that, than the soldiers behind me.

“Just stop, Chess!”, Flag called behind me. “You have nowhere to run. Just come with us. Now”. His gun raised, he stalked towards me, an angry sneer on his face.

In a corner of the alley, I saw an old dumpster, under a fire escape. “Don’t even think about it”, Flag said, voice calm.

My energy was almost gone. I knew I wouldn’t be able to make the jump, if I had to keep up the mirage. I allowed my body to reappear to him.

“I’m not going with you, Joe”, I said with a shaking voice.

“It’s Flag. Colonel Rick Flag. We’re not here to hurt you, but I will shoot, if you take another step”.

“No you won’t”, I said, and ran for the dumpster. I heard a gunshot, and felt the wind from the bullet graze past my head. I jumped onto the dumpster, bended my knees, and sprang upwards, grabbing at the ladder above. I almost reached it, but fell short a few inches, fingertips lightly touching the bottom of the ladder for a millisecond; before I fell back towards the ground, landing hard on my side. Pain shot through my hip, and not a second later; he was on me.

I screamed, growled and hissed, as he pinned my body down.

“Relax, kitten. Just stop”, he said, holding my wrists above my head, and intertwining his legs with mine, holding them in a painful position; worsening the pain in my hip.

“Get of me”, I shrieked. “Let me go. You’re hurting me!”.

I twisted my torso, forcing him to reposition his legs, and lock around mine. He drew my right arm down, and behind me, then forcing it upwards. His other arm locked around my torso, and I used my – now free – left hand, to claw at his face behind me, getting a hold of his hair.

There we were, wrestling in a weird bearhug; as his hips grinded forward, his groin meeting my backside.

“You’re enjoying this, you pervert”, I hissed.

“You wish”, he answered, and forced my right arm further upward, drawing another scream from me.

I made a last desperate attempt to break free, knocking my head backwards, aiming for his nose, but only meeting air; as his head was moved to the side.

“Give. Up.”. His voice was cold and determined.

He repositioned his body, one strong arm around my torso, holding both my arms in place in front of me.

“Get the tranq’”, he called, as a Tweedle came running towards us, with what looked like a piercing gun. I began to shake, not liking where this was heading. Flag grabbed the gun, held it to my neck, and pulled the trigger.

“Just sleep, now”.

Suddenly the world started to blur. I opened my mouth, but not a sound came out of it. I blinked once, but immediately regretted it, as opening my eyelids again was near impossible.

Behind me, I felt Flag loosening his grip on me. “That’s it”, his voice sounded, from far away. I felt his hand sliding down my side, then moving towards my stomach. Finally, opening my eyes, I looked down, head spinning; as he slid his hand down the front of my waistband. Strangely enjoying his touch, I was weirdly disappointed, when his hand moved up again, pulling out the money clip from before. “Get this back to the man at the club”, his faraway voice said.

He let go of me, and I rolled onto my back, breathing slowly. “Tease”, I chuckled at him. The last thing I saw, was him sending me a crooked smile. Then everything went black.

---

Everything after that happened in glimpses. My body was lifted from the ground, and placed in a truck.

I must have been out of it, because the next thing I remembered was my ears popping, and a sharp pain from a needle, being forced through my skin, stitching up the bleeding gash on my belly. I heard helicopter sounds, and felt the weird weightless emotion, of being lifted into the air, and flown; somewhere.

Next it was another vehicle, bumping down a road full of holes. I gasped from the pain in my hip and stomach, and tried to move, but my wrists were firmly held in place by cuffs, attached to the gurney I was laying on. Black again.

Sounds of gates. The smell of wet dirt. Something or someone growling. An accented voice yelling “We got a new toy, mates”. The smell of burning wood. Loud giggles from a voice I knew I’d heard before.

I finally came to, as my body was unceremoniously discarded on a hard floor. I opened my eyes, Examining the room, eyes reaching the door. Catching my breath, I tried to reach for it.

In the door opening stood the woman from the van in the alley, next to Flag, who’s eyes – for the first time – would not meet mine.

“Welcome to Belle Reve”, the woman said. “Once you’ve settled in, and come to your senses, we’ll be back to talk to you”.

I opened my mouth, and tilted my head, trying desperately to come up with a clever answer, but she interrupted my blurry train of thought.

“Y/N. I know you won’t believe me, but this is for the best. Welcome to the first day of your new life”.

The door slammed, and I heard them walking away.

I screamed. I banged the door. I pleaded. I called the people outside every profanity I knew. But it was no use, and I knew it. They’d caught me, and I wasn’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future.

Looking around the room, I saw that it was more prison cell, than hotel accommodation. In one corner there was a hole in the floor, with what was left of a toilet roll next to it. There were no windows, and the only thing resembling a bed, was a thin foam mattress, covered by a smelly blanket.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and it was pitch black.

“Hi, honey”, a voice called. “Look up. See that tiny red dot in the ceiling?”. I did. “That’s me. My name is Griggs, but you can call me Captain. All my best friends do; and, oh, we’re gonna be bffs in no time”. The snarling voice cackled, and then died out.

I was alone.

---

I don’t know how long I screamed, but my throat hurt, and after a while, my voice was hoarse and disappearing

I counted seconds, but lost track, I decided to feel my way around the room.

A scratch and a howl from the speaker next to the red dot interrupted me.

“Careful, sweetheart. We didn’t have time to cat-proof the room for you. There might be some exposed wires on the floor. Old buildings, you’ll understand”.

I crawled to the mattress, curling up in a seated position on it.

“It’s funny, I thought cats could see in the dark”, Griggs voice said. “Here’s the deal. I know you can make it so we can’t see you, so I decided to make it so that you can’t see anything”. I could hear him smile.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get three square meals a day, and I’ll be watching you through this fancy thermal camera Waller gave me, that makes it so I can make sure you’re perfectly safe”. He was leering at me. I could hear it. “I’ll be looking, or some of my guys here will. You’ll never be alone. Whatever you do, we’re here, keeping you company”.

My body was quivering. A small hatch in the bottom of the door opened, and someone slid a small box into the room.

“That right there is a prison grade uniform. I heard that you’re a dancer, so you’ll want to be able to move in it. I made some adjustments to it, just for you. Now put it on. Go on. I’ll turn on the lights, so it’s easier for you”.

The lights flickered on, and cut into my eyes. Inside the box was a tank top, cut, so that it would cover barely more than my chest. A pair of stained orange shorts, and worn slippers completed the outfit.

“I’m not wearing this”, I called out into the room.

“Come on, honey. You don’t want to piss me of”.

“Fuck you!”, I yelled, and kicked the box into the corner.

Loud music, some kind of weird trance/dubstep mashup, with a pounding bass played loudly enough for me to cover my ears.

“Put on the clothes, and put your own clothes in the box”, Griggs voice boomed. “This is my house, sweetbutt, and you’ll respect your host!”.

The music became impossibly louder, and I dived for the box, grabbing the clothes.

“That’s it. Now turn towards the camera, and let me see you”. I did as asked, and started to strip down to my underwear. I was still wearing my glittery dance bra, and ripped jeans; shedding the later, to reveal my black panties underneath.

“Now we’re talking, huh, boys”, Griggs voice laughed; and I heard other voices in the background, jeering along with him.

Quickly, I put on the prison “uniform”, and put my own clothes into the box, pushing it out of the hatch, that had reopened. The box disappeared, and was replaced with a small bowl; filled with small brown pellets, floating around in some water.

“Kibble time, puss”.

The lights went out again, and everything went silent.

#rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag imagine #rick flag fic #suicide squad fic #suicide squad imagine #amanda waller

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callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Dream VI

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 8, 390

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes; The action makes her look at him again and there’s something behind the playfulness in his gaze, something that sings like there is only one for me; you have made that a possibility, like we could take that step to see, mm; if this is really gonna be, like all she’s gotta do is say yes to whatever statement his eyes are making, to whatever question his fingers are stitching into her skin. (Read chapter below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Say Yes

There is only one for me

You have made that a possibility

We could take that step to see, mm

If this is really gonna be

All you got to do is say yes

On the following Thursday, Iris finds herself rushing down Main St., her glittery gold pumps making a rhythmic clack-clack-clack on the sidewalk. She barely had time to change from what she’d worn to work, into a long black maxi dress printed with gold feathers all over it. The dress has long sleeves and a modest neckline, though the right side split that rises near to her waist changes what might otherwise just be a pretty casual dress. She’s late, which is why she’s risking a broken neck by running down the street in these shoes, not wanting to hear Wally bitch about being late to his 21st birthday dinner.

She finally gets to the front of Golden’s, where her dad has rented out space for the dinner and later, some music and dancing. Barry is standing outside of the restaurant, in a pair of well-fitting black pants and camel colored desert boots, tugging at the neck of the white sweater that does only good things for those broad shoulders. He looks up from his phone when he hears her heels, and the smile he gives her pulls her up short.

“Hi, beautiful” he greets as he steps out from where he’d been leaning on the wall. “You look nice."

Iris waves a hand, still trying to catch her breath. “I look like I’ve been working all day.”

She touches self-consciously at her hair, knowing that the curls from her bantu knots have likely begun to fall. But when she looks up again, the word nice isn’t actually what she sees as he’s looking at her. It’s a misnomer, the word nice, because his gaze follows the curves of her body, the way the dress’s matching tie shows the deep curve of her waist, and how every time she moves, Barry sees one long, brown leg ending in the double straps around her ankle. Iris shifts under his gaze, at his blown irises, the color of them graying by the moment.

“Come here,” he says, reaching out for her.

“What? Barry, we’re late,” she attempts to argue, even as she’s letting him pull her into his arms. She tumbles into them, letting him wrap both his arms around her as she circles hers around his waist. She can feel the warmth of his palms through the thin material of her dress.

“Breathe,” he commands softly, and she inhales deeply before letting it go. Barry loosens his hold, but only enough that he can look into her eyes.

“Let’s try that again,” he teases. “Hi, Iris, you look beautiful.”

Her stomach flutters at the comment and she bites down on her bottom lip. “Thank you, Barry.”

“How’s your day been? We haven’t talked.”

“Barry, we’re…”

“Late. Yes, I know. And maybe I’m stalling because I’m nervous to meet your entire family at your brother’s party, but I also just wanna check in.” He lifts her chin with a forefinger. “So how’s your day been?”

She thinks that she fucking melts, just like that.

“It’s been good. Really good,” she replies softly, trying to hold his tender gaze. “I didn’t have to curse any undergrads. And I, uh, well,” she hesitates for only a moment, but she wants to tell him this, even if it’s news she’s been hoarding for the moment. “Well, my blog is going to be featured on Good Morning, Central City.”

His eyes light up. “What, Iris? That’s amazing!” He wraps his arms around her again and squeezes, even pulling her off of her feet. The sound of her laughter fills the air as she tightens her hold on his neck.

He’s the first person she’s told. She’d gotten the email after lunch this afternoon, about the morning talk show featuring some of Central City’s rising internet stars. She’s never considered herself an internet star, especially because her blog focuses primarily on others, with the exception of the occasional personal story, the occasional picture with an update about her life. But they’re taping the segment in a month’s time and she’ll have a ten minute spot talking to the hosts and answering questions about What a Life You’ve Lived.

“Baby, I’m so damn proud of you.”

And he is, which isn’t so much startling as it is noteworthy. Because he’s new here, but already he’s been so supportive of her and her work, reading and asking questions all the time. It’s a rush, really, and she has to hold on to him to steady herself.

“Thank you so much, Barry. It’s exciting and scary and, humbling, in a way.”

“See,” he says, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Good.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he takes it as an invitation to kiss her. It’s a quick kiss, compared to the way he usually kisses her, but he still leaves her light-headed from the taste and the feel of him. She hums when he pulls away, closing her eyes briefly.

“You ready?” she asks when he’s in her sight again.

“I think I am,” he replies, but she notes that he seems a little dazed too.

“Don’t be nervous,” she grins. “You already know Dad. You’ve met Linda. You’ve likely met Cecile too.”

“Yes, but it’s one thing to talk to Captain West and DA Horton for work. It’s completely different to hang out with them as the man their daughter has been seeing.”

She takes his hand to squeeze once and lets go to run her hand across his chest, picking at invisible lent on his sweater.

“It’ll be fine. Just be your weirdly charming self.”

“Weirdly charming?” His eyes widen and he stands up straighter. “How am I weirdly charming?”

Ignoring his question, she grabs his hand again. “Come on. We’re really late now.”

“But Iris…?”

Iris isn’t quite sure how she got Barry invited to this dinner. She’d gone over to her dad’s for dinner on Sunday, and they’d been talking about Wally’s party, securing some last-minute details. Out of the blue, Wally had blurted about Iris’s “new boyfriend,” though Iris figures it was a calculated move on her brother’s part. But now they’re here, walking into Golden’s hand in hand.

The place has been decorated for the party: white, black, and gold streamers everywhere, a matching balloon arch, a tall matching photo booth set up on one side. The space has been cleared so that there is one long table for the group to sit together (to include their family, Linda and Daniel, Theo and Xuan, and several of Wally’s friends from college). On the other side of the table is a wide-open space where, in about an hour, a DJ will come set up in the corner and the remaining space will act as a makeshift dance floor.

Wally is sitting in the middle of the table, a black leather crown on his head, matching his black t-shirt and blazer paired with black trousers, a gold chain circling his throat. The color theme for his birthday party is black, white, and gold, and as Iris looks around the room, she sees her family and Wally’s friends all adhering to the dress code.

“Iris,” he shouts when he spots her. “Fucking finally.” He immediately glances back at their dad with a low “sorry dad,” before standing to greet her. Iris pulls him in for a hug, wrapping her arms tight around him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she tells him. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Thanks, big sis.” He gives her another big squeeze and then pulls back to kiss her cheek.

Joe West, tall and imposing-looking with deep brown skin and kind eyes, shakes his head at his youngest son and stands to give Iris a hug too.

“Good to see you, pumpkin.”

He looks at Barry, who’s standing behind her, looking a little bit pink in the face, his eyes wide. She shakes her head in amusement, thinking about how he’s always so damn confident when he’s with her, but he’s looking like he wants to turn and run at the moment.

“CSI Allen,” her dad says, expression unreadable.

Barry swallows. “Captain West. It’s, uh, good to see you.”

There’s a tense silence for just a moment as her dad seems to size Barry up. But before Barry decides to actually run away, Iris rolls her eyes and lightly taps her father’s shoulder.

“Daddy, stop.”

Her dad blinks once and then his face erupts in a wide grin. “I’m just kidding. Good to see you, Allen.” He reaches out to shake Barry’s hand, clapping his shoulder.

“You too, sir,” Barry nods once, and then again. “And please just call me Barry.”

The rounds are made. Barry greets DA Horton, a pretty woman with ochre colored skin and big brown eyes, who tells him to call her Cecile when they aren’t at work. Wally is next, who gives him a long look, not unlike their father, before reaching out to hug him, whispering something in his ear that makes Barry smile faintly as he looks briefly at Iris before turning back to Wally and nodding firmly. Xuan and Theo greet him with wide smiles, and then Linda gives him a kiss on the cheek before introducing him to Daniel, a tall, sun-kissed man with near black eyes, unruly dark hair, and an easy smile.

The table is divided with family on one end and Wally’s friends on the other, with Wally sitting in the middle on one side and Iris across from him. There are a couple of waiters, Allegra is here as the bartender, and just as Barry and Iris are sitting down, the waiters bring out several plates of appetizers featured on the menu: egg rolls, steamed buns, fried pork dumplings, ginger salads, edamame, baked sticky wings. There are several plates of each, enough for everyone to have some of everything and they all dig in, taking sips of Wally’s birthday cocktail, something that’s mostly champagne, in between.

Iris watches in fascination as Barry effortlessly makes conversation with people around him. It’s not that she’s necessarily surprised; Barry is an affable sort, her dad is an extremely good judge of character, and Wally and Cecile are generally easy-going people. But seeing it in action does something so funny to her that she can’t describe it. When her dad asks how they met, he shoots her a wink and replies, “I saw her out dancing one night and I knew I had to get to know her.” Only she hears Linda’s snort, but the answer does make her shake her head (and flush a little) in remembrance.

Then Cecile wants to know, inexplicably, about their first date.

“She invited me over for dinner,” Barry explains.

“No, I…” She turns sharply to her side, narrowing her eyes at the unmitigated glee in his. He knows that if she explains how he’d just shown up (because she’d invited him over for a one-night stand anyway), they’d both be thrown under the bus.

Iris looks back at the table, at her dad who’s got an eyebrow raised, and at Wally who’s obviously trying not to laugh.

“I don’t really count that as the first date,” she responds through clenched teeth. Barry leans into her, arm draped over her shoulder, fingers playing absently with her dress’s collar.

“So do you count hanging out at Fall Fest?”

She isn’t fooled by the casual tone of his question. “You were there with your friends. You ditching them had nothing to do with me.”

He reaches out and fingers the simple gold open circle studs she’s wearing. The action makes her look at him again and there’s something behind the playfulness in his gaze, something that sings like there is only one for me; you have made that a possibility, like we could take that step to see, mm; if this is really gonna be, like all she’s gotta do is say yes to whatever statement his eyes are making, to whatever question his fingers are stitching into her skin.

“Me leaving them had everything to do with you.”

And she’s, for a second (or for a minute, or for some infinite period of time) lost in it, lost in him, forgetting that this is not a private moment, that people are watching, that the goosebumps that are gliding up her arms and the heavy rise and fall of her chest are for everyone to see.

Linda lets out a cough, a way too obvious attempt to break the tension.

“But if we’re talking about our first official date,” Barry says, holding her gaze for a second longer before turning back to her family, “we went on a picnic.”

She can’t look at them, not yet, and she saves face by turning to Linda whose own eyes are filled with mirth.

“Oh, a picnic,” Cecile squeals. “How sweet.”

“Yeah,” he replies, smiling. “It was sweet: the company and the dessert.”

She thinks of the dessert, the way he’d licked at her like she was the sweetest thing he’d ever had in his mouth; Iris has to avert her eyes from them again, lest they see her suddenly widened eyes and her speeding pulse, her legs crossing and uncrossing again.

Wally, bless his soul, takes up the conversation from there, turning it to something he’d figured out in one of his classes. Iris leans into Barry.

“You do too much,” she tells him quietly.

He nods in concedence. “You’re probably right.” Then one corner of his mouth lifts again. “But you can’t tell me you don’t like it.”

She pinches him at that and he yelps, rubbing at his arm.

“I’m gonna hurt you later,” she threatens, stretching up to whisper it in his ear.

He licks his lips, eyes blazing. “You promise?”

She punches him lightly on the arm and he responds with a kiss to her cheek.

They fall into individual conversations after that. Plates disappear and more food appears; champagne glasses are taken away or refilled. Iris eats on most of whatever’s put in front of her, but she drinks slowly since it is still a school night. She’s half-listening to Linda and Dan tell her parents about some trip that they’re interested in taking to Vietnam, where all of Dan’s grandparents still live. Her dad and Cecile are flirting a little bit, she thinks, which, weird. Still, she’s got an ear to the conversations that Barry is having. He starts off talking to Jessie, one of Wally’s friends that have been around since Wally started at CCU, about nanotechnology, something Iris has zero interest in, and they geek out about it for long enough that Iris gets bored of it. But that leads them to a conversation about which professors are still at CCU, where Barry also went for undergrad and grad, finishing both eight years ago. That tells her that Barry is about five years older than her, which Iris guesses she can see in his mannerisms, in how comfortable he is in his career and in his thoughts and even in the way he carries his body.

Wally takes Barry’s attention away from Jessie after a while. Barry moves away from Iris enough that he can focus on whatever Wally’s saying. It takes his arm from her chair but he maintains contact by planting his hand on her bare thigh, thumb rubbing against her lightly. She can only hear snippets of their conversation, words their deeper voices, though whispered, can’t hide. She hears, at one point, “I think your sister is the loveliest woman I’ve ever known, in temperament and beauty, and I’m here for as long as she’ll have me.”

She doesn’t think she was supposed to hear that,

(although, she’ll wonder later that night if, purposefully, Barry had said it loud enough for her to do so).

Still, she does, whether he meant for her to or not. And she grapples with it for a moment. Because he’s said something similar before. He’s told her that he’s whipped and that he likes her and that he wants. The reality is: she’s wondered if it were true. She knows better than anyone the power of words, how they’re used to not only tell stories, but to tell lies, to manipulate, to coerce. And of course she doesn’t think that Barry would do any of those things, but she’d thought that his words had been just...words, pretty things to make her feel good.

(Okay, so maybe that it’s really true, either. But it’s been easier to take him at face value, to pen this story based on her own feelings, not always realizing that Barry’s just as much of a character here, that his dialogue matches the action, the imagery, foreshadowing whatever it is that’s really happening here.)

So saying this to her brother, however, privately and in the seriousness she knows is accompanied by his furrowed eyebrows and pursed mouth...well, that crystalizes it for her. Her reaction, though unsurprising in its intensity (because everything about this with him has been intense), is abrupt. Her entire body seizes up with, god, feeling, with emotions she’s been, apparently, cultivating since the moment he asked her to dance. She goes hot at the same time that she physically shivers, with her own words unspoken, with feelings suddenly realized, with raw passion, with all you gotta do is say yes; don't deny what you feel, let me undress you, baby; open up your mind and just rest; i'm about to let you know, you make me so...

She silently downs the rest of her drink, looking around the room to see if anyone has noticed her eyes darting to and fro, literally on the edge of a breakdown. She takes a big breath and wonders what she should do about this inconvenient revelation.

Barry turns to her, that same soft smile on his face. But, noticing what he perceives as her solemnity, he pulls from his conversation and slides his hand up her thigh and over her hip to settle on her waist. Her skin tingles at his touch.

“You alright? You’re not talking much.”

“Yeah,” she nods, lips turning up, hoping he can’t see the slight bit of panic she’s feeling. “Yeah. You? Surviving the interrogation?”

“They haven’t thrown me out yet, so I think so.”

She gives him a quiet laugh. But then he goes a little thoughtful too, licking his lips and staring at her. He reaches out to push a lock of hair behind her ear, and then he keeps his hand on her, running along the side of her face, down until he’s holding her by the back of her neck, his thumb still rubbing along the apples of her cheeks. He doesn’t look away, blinking as if to steady her features.

“What?” she questions, a bit nervously, wondering if he can see what she’s just realized in her features. He always looks at her as if he can, as if he can read her. He doesn’t speak for a moment, then,

“You’re really pretty.”

Iris scrunches her nose a little. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know, I just… you seem kind of far in your head right now and I know that compliments always make you blink back into the moment.” He gives a small grin. “Or make you blush.”

“I’m Black,” she counters. “I don’t blush.”

“Hmm,” he hums, grin widening. “Maybe you don’t get red like me, but you blush.” He runs his thumb across her bottom lip, tracing the plump curve. “Your eyes look sort of blown and you bite this lip and,” he leans closer, speaking close to her ear, “I can practically see your breathing get deeper.”

Iris decides that it’s only because of his thumb on her mouth that she doesn’t complete each of these steps he’s outlined. Instead, she circles her hand around his wrist and gives him a frown against his thumb.

“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here,” she reveals. “You do make me blush, just like you said, but I feel like you’re always so, so…”

She lets the sentiment taper off, not wanting to truly acknowledge that she feels like she’s the one stepping out of her comfort zone, the one hanging off the ledge. But he chuckles, the sound connoting more incredulity than humor.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Her brows furrow, briefly confused. “Bear…”

“Do you think I’m composed, Iris?”

She snaps back, not liking his tone. “Well you’re always so goddamn smug and…”

His kiss cuts her off. Somehow, he’s still mindful of the mixed company, she assumes, because it’s a kiss like earlier: with some tongue, but still quick and nothing particularly distasteful. Even still, she tries to chase after him, to deepen the kiss, because she really just can’t help it where he’s concerned. When he pulls back, he resumes running his thumb along her mouth, and she knows that her lipstick is officially fucked.

“I’m not composed, Iris,” he tells her, eyes darting across her face. He, at least, lowers his voice so that they aren’t making a scene. “I’m, literally, a fucking mess around you. I don’t know, I'm just trying to make you think I’m confident, so you don’t think I’m too boring or, or before you realize that there’s someone better out there for you.”

He holds her gaze, blue-green eyes keeping her captive. It’s all she can do to keep from falling into him, from blurting out her newfound revelation. It’s all she can do to not weep at the fact that he’s apparently in this too, that she isn’t the only one losing her shit right now.

“Iris, you asked me what I was doing to you. And I told you it’s nothing that you aren’t doing to me. And that’s the truth. Whatever you got, I'm probably so far past that already.”

The words get stuck, then, the song that’s been playing in her head since she saw him this evening, since she’s thought of what it would be like to be desired by someone like this, since she was a little girl dreaming, the sound like loving you has taken time, take time; but I always knew you could be mine, the melody one that skips in tune with her heart every time Barry makes these grand declarations like he’s just done.

He gives her another peck on the mouth, likely figuring that she’s lost all mental function. He isn’t wrong, and when Wally calls for his attention again, he gives her one more caress before turning back to him.

Still dazed, Iris turns and locks eyes with Linda who’s gazing at her in concern.

“You okay, Iris?” She eyes Barry over her shoulder. “That seemed pretty intense.”

“Can we talk?” Because Linda and Dan had been like this, enamored with each other. And Iris just wants to get it right. “Not right now, but later in the week?”

Linda nods. “Yeah, okay. Of course we can.” She takes a hold of both of Iris’s hands and gives a good squeeze. “But I see you retreating right now. Don’t. We’ll talk later, but don’t space out here. Stay in this moment; stay in this feeling.”

She looks up at her best friend. Iris can admit that she thought she knew love. She’s seen it in others, she’s written about it. But feeling it, at least what she thinks might be the beginning of it, is overwhelming. So she attempts to do as her friend asks and stay in the moment.

The parents leave around 10, with strict instructions to not tear apart the restaurant. The Parks have offered the place ‘til about 1, likely even later. With the tables pushed back, white strobe lights turned on, and the DJ from CCU already set up, the place could almost be mistaken for a club. More of Wally’s friends, or at least, more people he knows from school, those who weren’t invited to the more intimate dinner part of the night, start to file in and an off-duty cop that their dad has hired is manning the door. Iris’s 21st birthday had consisted of her own dinner at Golden’s and a night out at some bar downtown, but she thinks that Wally has got the right idea, making it more exclusive like this.

In an effort to “stay in the moment” (and not freak out about the fact that she’s officially acknowledged that she’s fallen into some sort of infatuation with Barry Allen), Iris orders her second of the birthday cocktail and sits down at the bar alongside Dan and Linda to watch the younger adults dance to the music. A tall woman in a pretty gold dress has a camera looped around her neck and is taking pictures of her classmates, all in their white, gold, or black party outfits. She’d gotten a few family portraits earlier, some of Linda and Iris, and one of Barry and Iris that had been meant to be pretty simple, them standing next to each other with Iris leaned in close, Barry holding on to her waist. But he’s standing just slightly behind her, with his big hand spread over her hip, and he’s looking down at her as she smiles softly for the camera. The photographer had shown them the photo after and it was the first time she had seen them together, the first time she can maybe see what he means when he tells her that he’s so far past wherever she is right now. But, and Iris can see it now, is feeling it now: he may not be as far past her as he thinks.

Now, Linda and Iris are the de facto chaperones for the night, a task that Linda is taking seriously as she hops up every few minutes to make sure no one is tearing up her parents’ place. Barry, who’d been talking to her dad before he left, strolls over to her, expression calm. He walks right into her, positioning himself between her legs, planting his hands right on her hips.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Iris, in the process of looping her arm around his neck, pulls back until only her hand is circling his throat. “What are you sorry for?”

“I told you that I would,” he waves a hand as he tries to find his words, “that I would give you the time that you need. And I told myself that I would take it easy, that I wouldn’t pressure you. But I think earlier, I, I was…”

“Wait, no.” She shakes her head, stopping him. She has to lean in closer, because the DJ has just started up and the music is loud in the relatively small space, in addition to her currently drunk brother and his friends singing along loudly to the song. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just trying to figure out what it all means. This is, this is new to me, and I’m just...”

He nods slowly when she trails off, flicking his pink tongue out to swipe across his mouth. Iris follows the action, eyes darting up when his lips start to curve up.

“I’m here until you figure it out.” He steps closer, closing the distance between them. Her legs wrap around his waist automatically, hands sliding up until they’re holding onto her hips. “And in the meantime, we can get a little tipsy and make out like we’re 21 again.”

“Oh, so you did a lot of drunk making out at 21?”

His eyes go big. “Of course not. Just maybe once or twice, you know.” He taps her hip. “And with no one as pretty as you.”

Iris barks out a laugh. “Nice save.”

He grins wide. “Yeah. I thought so too.”

He orders another drink too, and Allegra smirks at the both of them, her version of a smile, as she sets their drinks down.

Iris grabs her drink and raises the glass. “Let’s toast.”

“Okay,” Barry agrees. “What are we toasting to?”

“New relationships?” she tries.

“Sure,” he nods. “And to figuring it out.”

They clink glasses.

She doesn’t know how long it takes Barry to get her alone in a dark corner, grinding on one another to the music. They sit at the bar for a little while longer, until they finish their cocktails. They order another, though Iris asks for more of whatever mixers are being used than champagne. They don’t try to talk much since they can’t really hear one another without shouting at the other. Instead, they watch the younger crowd dance for a while. Iris turns her chair all the way around so that she can keep an eye, and Barry sits down beside her. He’s turned to the side so that he can crowd her, legs wide, both of his hands touching her.

At one point, Linda stands up and walks through the crowd in her tall black strappy heels and leather pants. She straightens the sheer white blouse she’s got tucked into her pants and grabs the microphone from the DJ.

“Alright,” she starts amidst groans from the crowd when the music is cut. “Oh hush it.” She searches out the crowd until she finds Wally and then she smiles at him. “So Iris and I really want to thank you all for coming out tonight; she’s not up here because speaking in front of crowds isn’t really her thing, but I know I speak for us both when I say that we’re so happy to celebrate my honorary baby brother. Get drunk, but don’t forget to tip the bartender. Have fun, but not enough that you tear my parents’ shit up. And as we’re drinking and dancing, let’s remember the beautiful man that we’re here to love on. I’m so incredibly lucky that you let me into your life when I made my way into Iris’s. Happy birthday and I love you, Wally.”

Wally blows a kiss at Linda and then turns to catch Iris’s eyes. She sees the sheen of unshed tears in Wally’s and he mouths an “I love you” at her that she immediately mouths back. Up front, Linda starts to move away from the mic and then comes back. “And one round of shots on me!”

The music starts back up and the partiers get back into the groove. Iris and Barry sit for moments longer, until the music changes to something lower, sultrier, the lyrics seductive, i-i recognize the butterflies inside me, ah; sense is gonna be made tonight, tonight; all you gotta do is say yes, the beat one that she can feel in every part of her. Barry must feel it too.

“Dance with me,” he requests, standing, and she nods, taking his hand and following him out. He finds them a spot off to the opposite end of the DJ, further away from where the crowd of dancers have also begun to pair off, to fall victim to the beat of this song. Barry stands with his back against the wall, near where a curtain hangs shadowed from the others, and he turns Iris until her ass is pressed firmly against his front.

She begins to rock, winding her hips in easy circles, letting her body learn the rhythm of the song, all you gotta do is say yes, letting her body get lost in the music, lost in the crooned commands as the artists sing, don’t deny what you feel, let me undress you, baby. He matches her, swaying with her, touching on her as he does. He holds onto her, one hand pressed just beneath her breasts, the other right above her pelvis. She lets her head fall back onto his shoulder, wrapping her arm behind her around his neck. Barry leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek, her ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth, with his tongue, sucking on her.

“Hmmm,” she purrs, grinding back against him, humming along, open up your mind and just rest; i’m about to let you know that you make me so, so...

“I’ve been watching you,” Barry tells her, whispering it into her ear over the music. “In this dress all fucking night. Do you know what it’s been doing to me?”

She shakes her head in response to his question.

“It’s been driving me crazy,” he responds. “Wally’s little friends have been watching you, probably wanting to touch you like I’ve been wanting to do all night.”

She doesn’t stop dancing, hips moving slow to one side, slower to the other, Barry moving with her. He grinds behind her, holding her tight against him. She can feel him start to swell against her ass and she closes her eyes at the feeling, at the sound of his voice, rough and arousal-soaked, speaking in her ear.

“You walked up to me on the street with this leg out.” He rubs down as much of her thigh as he can reach and then back up. “Your skin glowing and that sexy mouth of yours smiling at me.”

He tips his fingers back up her thigh and he reaches under her dress and across her pelvis. Her legs spread as she bends her knees, still in time to the music, but it gives him more access. The panties she’s got on are black and high cut, and Barry caresses her bare bikini line. Her grip tightens on his neck, bringing them even closer, making it easier to slide his fingers even further into her panties.

“Barry,” she whispers, and she knows he can’t hear her. But he doesn’t need to because he taps her on her pelvis, his longest finger catching on her clit.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not gonna finger fuck you out here.”

Iris realizes, as he says it, that maybe she wouldn’t hate it; because the singers are saying, you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, and he does, make her so so so...and she’s feeling it, feeling him, wondering what people might see if they looked over, wondering why the thought of it makes her stomach clench, a little in embarrassment, a little more in something that makes the clench move lower, her sex clamping around where she wants his fingers, where she wants his dick.

She turns, wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him. It gets deep fast, with Iris licking into Barry’s mouth and Barry returning her kiss with fervor. She grips at the hair at the nape of his neck, and he reaches down, gripping a firm handful of her ass to bring her closer. She moans into his mouth, catching his answering groan.

She pulls back. “Come with me.”

She takes his hand and leads him through the crowd. No one is paying much attention to them; Wally is still in the middle of the floor, dancing against a tall good looking dark-skinned man. Linda is out there too, Dan dancing his normal one-two step move as Linda leans close to him, her arms looped around his neck. Iris takes Barry to the back, down the hall that leads past the kitchen. The bathrooms are there, and Iris checks to make sure no one is coming before she pushes through the door and leads him inside. She takes him to the last and the largest of the three stalls, past the three gold circular mirrors above clean white sinks; her shoes are loud on the black marble floors.

“You know,” Barry says as she locks the stall door behind her. He grabs for her, clutching her hand. “You claimed it was me who got you to do stuff like this, but you brought me back here.”

She lifts her eyebrow at him, even as she moves past him to lean against the wall. “You saying you don’t want me in here?”

She positions herself so that her leg is peeking out from the long slit in her dress. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her.

Except maybe she does.

The weight of her earlier revelation sits heavy on her, and the song that’s been playing, the you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sits just as heavy, pushing on her thighs, and on her heart too; and Iris needs to do something with it, needs to let go of some of this feeling, to get out the parts that might start to be too much, that are already beginning to flood her, so that she can make sense of what’s really there.

So she looks Barry in the eye, runs her manicured nails over her throat, down through her cleavage, over her belly until she can touch at the top of her thigh. She opens the skirt, showing him the panties he’d been playing with earlier, the lace around her waist, the thin fabric that shows exactly what it’s supposed to be covering.

“Bear?”

He’s over to her in two long strides. He plants both of his hands on the wall behind her, crowding her.

“I want you wherever you want me,” he tells her. “On your couch, on a blanket in the woods, in as many places in this restaurant as you’ll let me fuck you in.”

He licks his lips, but he doesn’t move to touch her. Instead, he thrusts his hips against her so that she can feel him, hard and solid against her pelvis.

“This is what you do to me, baby. I think about you and I’m like this.” He pushes against her one more time and then tells her to “turn around.”

She does. And the next few moments are like something out of a film, how rushed they are, how passionate. He presses her against the wall and touches her as he rubs his dick on her ass, slipping his hand into the top of her dress to play with her breasts. Her bra is made of the same thin material as her panties and he alternates between squeezing the whole of her breast and then pinching at the nipples, and then moving to the other to do more of the same. He kisses her wherever his mouth catches her: in her hair, on her cheek, on her shoulders when her dress starts to slide. They’re both breathing heavily; Iris is grinding back onto Barry where he’s so goddamn hard behind her, his sex swollen and his chest covering her. Her hands are clenching and unclenching into fists as she bangs lightly on the wall, moaning deep in her throat, humming her pleasure, you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so...

Iris hears the clank of his belt unbuckling. And her pussy is ready for him, slick and throbbing as she looks behind her to see him shoving his pants past his knees, gripping and then tearing open a condom he’s gotten from somewhere, caressing his own thick dick as he rolls it on. He leans over and kisses her, wet and sloppy, holding her in this position until he’s done devouring her mouth. Then he turns her back to the wall and lifts her dress, draping it above her waist. The cool air hits her heated flesh, and that contact, and Barry’s fingers spreading her thighs, and Barry pushing her panties to the side, rubbing along her slit to make sure she’s ready for him, it makes her moan loud and long.

Barry pushing into her cuts her off.

Her heels put her at the perfect height to arch her back into him, to take him in.

“Shit, Iris,” he murmurs. He pulls out, pushes back in, pulls out to the tip, pushes back in, and Iris knocks her forehead against the wall. “All the time,” he tells her, “I, I think about being in this pussy all the time.”

Her pussy opens for him, when he says that, letting him in deeper. Barry finds a rhythm, short strokes first, shallow and brief; and then longer strokes that bury him in, that smacks his pelvis against her ass. She loves the feel of him behind her, even if she misses being able to touch him, but the feel of his kissing on her and touching on her and fucking so hard into her more than makes up for it.

And then the door opens. Iris hears the music grow louder for several seconds and the unsteady clack of multiple pairs of heels and the drunken laughter of the women walking.

Iris whimpers, the sound turning into a moan because Barry doesn’t stop, just keeps riding her, gripping her waist tight. She holds in the moan she wants to let out, holds in how much she wants to slap her hand against the wall since she can’t. Barry angles himself closer to her.

“I think you like it, Iris,” he murmurs into her ear. “As soon as that door opened, you got wetter, baby.”

“Ahhh,” she breathes heavily as he pumps into her.

“You like it when you could get caught, huh? When someone might hear you?”

Iris shuts her eyes tight, shakes her head, and then bites down on her lip to keep from yelling out. But he feels so good, so thick and hard, and the feeling’s curling thick in her belly, thicker in her walls quivering around him. And he might not necessarily be wrong, that she likes it, the possibility of being caught, the fact that she could be heard. The loud laughter she’d heard when the door opened has quieted to softer giggles now; maybe they think she’s so into this that she doesn’t notice that the door never opened again, but they’re still there, amused by what’s happening. And from the way she keeps tightening on Barry’s dick, the way she’s pushing back against him, harder and harder, she’s more than into this.

“No? You don’t like this?” Barry questions and he shifts her dress even higher up her waist, pressing her harder into the wall.

“Fuck,” she grunts at the contact.

He gives a short, breathy chuckle. “Don’t worry. I like it too.” He reaches up and pulls her lip from between her teeth. “Don’t hold back. Let them hear you. Louder, baby.” He keeps rocking into her, as he moves that same hand down her chin, down the line of her neck, until he wraps a hand around the base of her throat. “Moan for me louder. Let them know who’s fucking you in here, baby.”

“Oohhh, yes,” she moans, only a touch louder.

He rubs a hand over her exposed ass cheek, softly, reverently. And then he pulls her hand back and smacks her hard.

“Barryyyyy!” She yells. Her rhythm falters and her head falls back against his shoulder. The arch in her back deepens and it pushes him even deeper.

“Just like that,” Barry groans.

“Damn,” she hears one of the girls in the bathroom breathe.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” another says.

“After I’m done texting Chris to see if I can come over after this.”

There is another round of laughs and Barry laughs again against her throat. “They like what I’m doing to you too.”

There’s a light thin layer of sweat on her skin, the sheen on her face and her chest, down her thighs. She’s wet, (god, she always gets so wet with him), and she’s dripping out around his dick. Her dress is probably going to be ruined.

But none of that matters. All that does is the sensations she’s feeling. Sex with Barry always takes up every one of her senses, and this is no different: she can taste the champagne still on her tongue, the mint from his when he’d kissed her; she can smell the citrus of the lemongrass on his skin, the rose water on her own, the heady scent of their arousal filling her nostrils; she can’t physically see much, with her eyes constantly shut tight, but she can picture it, picture them, his pants down at his ankles, legs as wide as they can go, her dress hiked up over her hips, the long length of him sliding in and out of her soaked pussy from behind; the feel of her breasts pressed into the cool wall, his fingers pressed into her throat, her hand clutching onto that same wrist; the soft sound of their breathing, the girls speaking softly, the music still playing, matching her cries, singing ah, ah, yea-yeah, yeah, yea-yeah; oh right there, right there, right there; right there, right there; right there, oh, oh, mm, mmm.

“Tell me what you want, Iris,” Barry groans. “Tell me, tell them, fuck, baby…”

“Harder,” she says, wanting to come, needing him to get her there. “Harder, Bear, fuck me…”

He does. He shifts again so that he can push all the way into her, riding her ass, and he long strokes into her, knocking against something that makes her quiver, harder and harder, a little bit faster, but always good, so good, so good, so, so, so…

“Barry.” Her orgasm hits her just as hard as he’s been doing. She doesn’t even realize it’s coming, not until her entire body seizes up, even her toes curl in her shoes, and she pushes back on Barry, squeezing him tight. It triggers his own and he grips her waist as he spills into her, the feel of his throbbing dick prolonging her climax, making her fall back into him until she’s completely spent.

“Did you, uh, do a lot of this when you were 21 and tipsy making out?”

Iris stands against the wall of the stall, looking down at her dress for stains, holding her underwear in her hands because she couldn’t stand the wet feel of them on her. The bathroom is quiet now, save for the faint music still coming from the front. She knows that they should hurry before someone else comes in, but she can’t really move yet.

Barry laughs as he shoves himself back into his pants and buckles back up. He’s already tied the condom up and flushed it down the toilet.

“God, no. The most I could get was a little over the shirt boob action.”

Iris shakes her head, a little fondly. “Please never say boob action again.”

“No?” He rubs his hand down the front of his sweater. “That’s not sexy?”

Iris shakes her head again as he walks back over to her. “Not even a little bit. That’s probably why you weren’t getting any.”

“You’re probably right. But I’ve upped my game now.”

Iris laughs. “You’ve upped your game?”

He nods, a goofy little grin on his face. He stops in front of her and takes one of her hands in his.

“Yeah. We did a little dancing, a little touching.” He wiggles his eyebrows and grabs at the panties in her hand, holding them up. “And I got you to fuck me in a bathroom.”

“Oh?” Iris watches as he puts the panties into his pockets. “You got me to fuck you?” She looks down at herself, and then sticks her leg out further. The slit of this dress, the shoes, the way the dress drapes her frame is undoubtedly a tongue-tier. Barry nods, swallows, and meets her gaze again, those eyes doing that graying thing she’s found she loves.

“Y-yeah. We can, uh, we can share the credit.”

Iris laughs out loud at that. “Come on,” she squeezes his hand and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s get out of here. We’re already gonna have to sneak out. What if those girls tell Wally? I can’t believe you had me doing all that.”

They leave the bathroom stall, heading for the door.

“It’s my game,” Barry replies, and Iris hides her laughter as they slip back into the party.

She looks for Wally to tell him that she’s leaving. Luckily, he’s at the bar, laughing with Allegra and the man he was dancing with earlier.

“Iris!” he shouts when he sees her. “Barry!”

Iris laughs as she steps into his open arms. “Are you having a good time, baby?”

“I’m having the best time.” He squeezes her. “I bet you are too.”

He looks over her shoulder at Barry and when she turns too, she sees a bit of color in his cheeks.

“What are you talking about?” she deflects.

Wally’s shrug is not at all sly. “I heard that someone was in the ladies’ room screaming out ‘Barry.’” He winks at Barry who goes even redder. “You should probably be glad Xuan and Theo think of you as a daughter.”

She rolls her eyes, even as she turns her head to hide her embarrassment. “We just came to tell you that we’re leaving. I’ve got class in the morning.”

“Of course,” Wally says, nodding. “And you’re both probably tired.”

“Okay, bye,” Iris starts to move out of his arms.

Wally laughs and tightens his arms around her. “I’m only kidding, big sis.” Then his smile turns softer and he casts another glance at Barry, before reaching down and cupping her cheek.

“This man is gone over you, Iris,” he says softly. “And I’m so happy for you. Nobody I know deserves a love like this more than you do.”

Iris gives him a smile and then another quick hug. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He pulls Barry in for a hug. “So good to officially meet you.”

“You too, man.”

And with that, Barry takes her hand and leads him out, and Iris follows beside him, overcome with what she’s feeling for him. She’d thought the sex might give her some space to think, but it’s only really just heightened it. They are still in the rising action of this story, gliding higher and higher on a diagram, climbing towards a climax she’s becoming excited to experience.

She’s only scared of what might happen when they come down from it.

All you gotta do is say yes

(Don't deny what you feel, let me)

#westallen fanfiction #barry x iris #iris west #barry allen #strangers to lovers

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starrykitty013 · 3 years ago

Text

Sneak Peak!! Gotta Go Hard Ch.5

Full Chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30983819/chapters/80906605

Reminder that all my sneak peaks are unedited and will be severely altered in the actual story.

Enjoy!

This kind of assignment shouldn’t really surprise him.

He has always been assigned to mutant cases, it was kinda his thing what with harboring so many super powered individuals on his main team. It was only natural that Fury trusted him with this assignment.

Although it was a little weird. Fury was oddly content with just monitoring one Peter B. Parker (and he’s known he heard that name before, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.) aka Spiderman and not enlisting him as an asset. Albeit, the kid wasn’t even in high school yet, but he was still of an above average intelligence that set him apart from his peers; besides the, ya know, superpowers and all that.

Maybe it had something to do with Tony Stark vouching for the kid when he was successful in taking down a potential risk to society - or New York, at least - successfully. Two if Scorpion would be included. It seems like Spiderman was starting to indicate a pattern of stopping risks before they could become full blown dangers. Like a soon-to-be drug lord, or a alien hybrid weapon dealer. Phil had to admit, it was impressive.

Spiderman didn’t seem like a threat, although everything was a threat in this line of business. If it wasn’t with you, it was against you - that sort of thing. But Spiderman seemed to genuinely be one of those things that was as non-lethal as they appeared; well lethal non-lethal, the kid could still throw a bus, no problem.

And it’s not like SHIELD had never turned a blind eye to vigilantes. Daredevil being the prime example, which no one could ever figure that one out - that must frustrate Fury beyond belief. But there was no reason to uproot a kid who hasn’t done anything but help so far. Although, one wrong move and he’d be neutralized; but until then they might as well reach out and acquaintance themselves. Before some bad guy gets the drop on an impressionable pre-teen, went without saying.

The ideal solution would be to shut the entire Spiderman thing down, but Stark had already tried that and that only lead the kid to take down one of his planes. So normal life fix was out of the question, so next best option was to make nice and hope he doesn’t stab them in the back - which would be very hard, considering they were still suspicious of the Avengers.

Making nice, as Stark suggested, would be upgrading that eyesore of a suit. Phil couldn’t help but agree. How the hell had a child in a hoodie and beat up converse taken down an entire plane without getting shredded? Phil found that highly unlikely, and a little part of his bleeding heart ached in sympathy.

The kid was approximately 43 seconds early when he dropped silently into the elevated alley that Phil had set the randevoz at. All he had to do was have Stark send a encrypted message to the kid’s phone - although there was some bellyaching about it being a tad harder what with outdated technology and fucking firewalls how does he even get it that strong? Or some other nonsense like that.

“Gotta admit, I thought I was gonna get kidnapped and experimented on.” he said in a casual tone.

“Night is still young.” Phil joked with a plastered friendly smile, that elevated none of the tension in Spiderman’s posture. Huh, not easily fooled. Daisy did say that his smile could come off a little creepy with a splash of pedophilic, maybe she was right. “You’re shorter than I thought you would be.” Because seriously, this kid was basically a step up from a fetus. A foot shorter than Phil, who was admittedly short for his age, and scrawny as all hell - though the oversize stitched up hoodie did obscure that a bit.

“Rude.” the kid muttered “So if not to kidnap and syphon my blood, what does SHIELD want me for?” he asked, getting straight to business.

“Got somewhere you need to be?” Phil quirked an eyebrow and the kid scoffed, but didn’t say anything more. “We want to be allies.” he stated.

“Sorry, I don’t do teams. Lone wolf-spider kind of guy, ya know.” he said and Phil’s mouth quirked at the pun.

“You misunderstand. You aren’t eligible for the Avengers.” yet. SPiderman shifted a little “Ally was a strong word, more of an acquaintanceship if you will.”

“Is that even a word?” the kid asked skeptically.

“It gets my point across, no?” he quirked a brow up.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Spiderman said rocked on the balls of his heels and swinging his arms a bit, a very child like gesture that Phil filed away for later “So what would this ‘acquaintanceship’ entail?” he asked with a cocked head and a curious lit, Phil smiled a little more genuinely. He couldn’t help it, this kid was fucking adorable. He knows most accounts say Spiderman is annoying, but he guesses he shouldn’t take the people he put away word for anything other than petty insults - although he can see why, it must be irritating to be taken out by a 4’ 5” kid in a hand-me-down track suit. Speaking of

“Well, let’s start with the attire.” Phil held out a brief case and SPiderman looked at it then him then back to the case and paused “You gonna take it, it’s kind of heavy.” he said, just to get Spiderman to take a cautious step forward and delicately exchange the briefcase and set it down to gingerly open it. As if it were a bomb. When it didn’t go off, he inspected the suit in the case. Running his hands over it carefully.”Stark made and approved.” he said as the kid explored the high tech polyester “form fitting and flexible for anya nd all acrobatics. HIgh tech lenses to manage your super senses too.” he recited from what he knew when Stark explained it ot him. There were a million other things, but Phil didn’t really care about them.

“It’s bugged.” the kid concluded flatly, shutting the case and looking up.

“Then debug it.” Phil said with a shrug “That was Stark’s addition, it’s not required.” the pre-teen nodded curtly.

“So what’s my contribution?” the kid stood up, handling the case with him. “This isn’t free, I assume.” he wiggled the case a bit.

“You assume correctly.” Phil smiled “And that’s on a need to know-”

“Yeah, I don’t roll that way.” the kid cut off dryly “Tell me up front, or you got no deal.” Phil was a little speechless.

“Disclosure is up to my superiors-”

“Then get permission to disclose.” Spiderman jutted the case out “I’ll wait.” he said and Phil looked at the case and then at the tiny kid who had gave him the oddest ultimatum he had ever heard, then laughed. The kid stiffened. “What’s so funny?” he sounded near offended and Phil waved him off.

“Nothing, just that,” he sighed good naturedly “You are a smart little tike aren’t you.”

“I’m not a toddler.” the kid grumbled.

“Well, I’m not supposed to but since you leave me no other option and I really don’t wanna play messenger for my grumpy boss and a little prepubescent vigilante, I’ll tell you.” Phil sighed, he was so gonna get torn into for doing this. Oh well, he’s done worse. The kid straightened, but didn’t retract his hand. “You can keep the suit, if we can call on you for missions. Back up and what not.” the kid analyzed him for a second and finally hummed.

“Okay, how about this. I keep the suit, but you don’t get to parade me around like a monkey. I won’t be your lackey.” the kid retracted the suit and Phil furrowed his brow and opened his mouth in protest, but the kid cut him off “I will however, act as a consultant. You need information regarding and surrounding or about anything going down in my stomping grounds, I’ll give it to you with no questions asked.” Phil closed his mouth as the kid took a deep breathe “And, additionally, if you need any back-up, in New York, I will provide it.” he said resultly. “Deal?” the kid stuck out his free, tiny hand.

“Hmm.” Phil considered. How good could a child’s information even be? Good enough to stop a drug empire and entire illegal weapon cyndicate. He also seemed to have good intuition, and having a little spider look out jumping around and keeping an ear out for them wouldn’t be so bad. “Deal.” he took the kid’s hand and shaked firmly, which caught the kid a but off guard but then he matched the strength.

“Okay, cool.” he said as they separated, and awkwardly fidgeted - losing most of that confidence he had a moment ago when he was demanding a fair deal. Phil almost laughed at the contrast. “Uhm… yeah that all?” he asked awkwardly, Phil nodded once. “Cool. Kay, see you around Mr. SHIELD-agent-dude.” he waved and then shot a web off to the nearest building and swung away as Phil looked after him. As he disappeared up and around the corner, practically flying away, Phil couldn’t help a more genuine smile spread across his lips.

Fascinating.

OoO

for more on this series go to: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1415002

#marvel #my fic #fanfic #my writing #sneak peak #prequel #starry post #spiderman #Phil coulson

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fallen-gravity · 4 years ago

Text

Fightin’ Back

That’s why I’m so tough on Dipper. So when the world fights, he fights back.

or,

five times that Stan helped Dipper recover after an encounter with the supernatural, and one time Dipper returned the favor.

Here’s my first attempt at a 5 + 1! My ideas and notes for this ended up getting super long, so I decided to break it up into different chapters instead of posting it all at once!

AO3

Stan can tell it’s the kids coming in through the gift shop door without even looking up from the stash of earnings he’d been counting. The height of tourism wouldn’t come until next month, and sitting around in the gift shop waiting for tourists to come by when he could always just close early to watch TV tended to get very boring very quickly.

He glances upward to greet them, and he’s surprised to find that they’re covered head to toe in cuts and scratches, and there’s twigs and leaves stuck in their hair.

“Yeesh, you two get hit by a bus or something?” he jokes, in an attempt to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t stick. The young twins just blink at him in eerie synchrony, and he can’t help but notice as they make their way to the living room that they’ve both got a slight limp in their step, and...come to think of it, hadn’t Dipper been wearing a cap when he left?

“Hey, uh, hold on a second”

Both twins freeze, and turn back around to face them with their soft brown eyes tinted with exhaustion. Stan clears his throat. “W-wouldn’t you know, I uh, accidentally overstocked on some inventory, so, uh, how’s about each of you take one item from the gift shop? On the house”

The grin that spreads across Mabel’s face is bright enough that it could put any electrician within a ten mile radius out of business. Her brother seems less convinced, and raises his eyebrows at Stan in an expression that nearly mirrors one of his own.

“What’s the catch?”

“The catch is do it before I change my mind, now pick something”.

The answer seems to pacify the kid. Mabel excitedly sprints off to the opposite side of the store as something shiny seems to catch her eye, and as much as the kid’s trying to hide it, Stan can’t help but notice how much slower Dipper’s moving without his sister’s arm wrapped around his shoulder for support. It seems he’s gotten the worse beating between the two of them from...whatever it is those kids have been up to all afternoon, and even from where he’s standing at the register Stan can see the dark purple ring of a bruise sitting just below his eye.

He’d always bruised much easier than his sister.

Even when they were the tiniest of kids, and he’d take the eight hour drive down from Gravity Falls to babysit them in California, Dipper would always end up with bruises all over his arms and legs from the smallest of falls. For the longest time, he’d chalked it up to being a terrible babysitter, and it was only a matter of time before Mabel would end up the same way, until one day when he witnessed them trip over the same dent in the rug within ten minutes of each other. Where Mabel had been able to get right back up and be on her merry way, Dipper had cried about the scraped knee the short fall gave him for at least ten minutes.

Stan clears his throat. “Hey, uh...kid?”

Dipper turns from where he’d been admiring his new hat in the small shelf-side mirror. “Yeah?”

Stan fidgets anxiously with the collar of his suit. There’s gotta be something the kid’s not telling him, right? There’s only one other person Stan knows who could wander off on his own for half an hour and come back looking like he’d been fending himself off from wildlife for the past month, and it didn’t take much to notice the kid took after him in a lot more ways than one. “I…”

“GRAPPLING HOOK!” Mabel suddenly shouts from the other side of the room, startling his train of thought away. When he and Dipper turn to her, she’s dangling from the ceiling.

“Uh…” Stan blinks. “Wouldn’t you rather have a doll, or something?”

Her grin only grows wider, and she pulls the trigger again to loosen herself from the ceiling. She lands to the ground with a heavy thump. “Nope!” She aims her grappling hook towards the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, and flings herself towards it. She smacks against the door, but with a quick “I’m okay!,” she stands to her feet and disappears through the door with it.

Beside Stan, Dipper chuckles, and it’s light and genuine. “Good luck getting that back from her ever again. Mom and Dad bought her a bedazzler for our twelfth birthday and she slept with the thing under her pillow for six months. She’s never giving that thing back”.

Stan shrugs, amused. “Heh, well, least now I know she’ll be able to defend herself if the goat turns on her.”

Dipper laughs. “After she got banned from the petting zoo I doubt she’d even need the grappling hook in that kind of situation”

...That’s a story he’s going to need to hear for sure.

But no, he’s getting off-track. Might as well bite the bullet before the kid heads to bed and he loses his nerve to ask. There’s a brief moment of silence between them, like Stan’s waiting for Dipper to speak up first, but then…

“Kid, are you sure you’re doing okay?”

Dipper tenses, and that should probably be enough of an answer for Stan, but Stan knows the kid, and he knows a white lie when he sees one, even if it’s just in the way Dipper carries himself. Stan’s had a lot of practice undermining how he’s feeling for the sake of other people. After you’ve been doing it for so long it becomes pretty easy to recognize in other people.

“Yeah!” Dipper’s voice squeaks, the way it does when he’s lying. “What makes you think that I’m not?”

Stan raises an eyebrow at him. “You and your sister come in looking like you’ve been mauled by a bear, and you’ve got a huge bruise on your face that your sister doesn’t” he gently taps at his own cheek to indicate its location. He sighs, shaking his head. “Look, you don’t gotta disclose to me how it happened, if it’s scary, or embarrassing, or whatever, but I want you to be honest about how you’re feeling. Your parents are trusting me to take care of you for the summer and I can’t exactly do that well if you hide things from me”.

Dipper frowns, his gaze turning away from Stan and down towards the cuts and scrapes on his arms. He looks as though his mind’s racing at a hundred miles per hour, and Stan almost wishes he had the power to read minds just to make this whole ordeal easier.

He settles for a shrug of his shoulders. “Oh, you know me.” His voice is more controlled than it had been a moment ago, but he’s still not making direct eye contact with him. “I’ve always been clumsier than Mabel. Must’ve gotten it when I tripped over that tree root sticking out of the ground.” He tries to dismiss the thought with a wave of his hand, but it’s as if he’s trying to demonstrate what he means, because his elbow bumps against the edge of the counter and he hisses in pain. He rubs at it tenderly, and when he stops and moves his hand away his fingers are lightly caked with blood.

Stan’s mouth forms to a tight, straight line. He punches the cash register to open it and put the rest of the day’s earnings inside. “Alright, that’s it. Come with me”

Dipper looks horrified. “You’re not taking me to the hospital, are you?” A quick glance to his hands, and he finally notices the blood. “I don’t need stitches, do I? Am I gonna get some weird, gross infection, or-”

Stan kneels to his level. “Whoa, whoa, take it easy there, kiddo” he says, placing a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “I’m not taking you to the hospital. Doesn’t look like nearly enough blood to need stitches anyway. We’re just gonna go into the kitchen and get the first aid kit, okay?”

Dipper sighs, and his breath is shaky. “Okay”.

He follows Stan into the kitchen like he’s his shadow, gripping onto his elbow like his life depends on it. He hops into a chair at the kitchen table and watches Stan’s every move, tight grip on his elbow not lightening up. Stan takes the seat besides Dipper, placing the first aid kit on the table beside a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“Alright,” Stan clicks the first aid kit open. “Show me what the damage is”

Dipper flinches at the use of the word damage, but he finally loosens his death grip on his elbow. It’s caked with dry blood, but Stan’s relieved to find that it doesn’t look like it’s gushing. He’d been right in assuming that he must’ve reopened the cut banging his elbow on the gift shop counter. Stan hums a noise of acknowledgement as he stands to wordlessly tell Dipper he’ll be right back, and pulls a washcloth from the drawer next to the sink. He runs it under cool water for a moment before he squeezes out the excess water and offers it to Dipper.

“Clean that off with this” Stan scrunches his nose. “Last thing you need is dry blood blocking the thing’s airway, and I can’t see how bad it actually is ‘til you clean it out. I’d help you with it, but, uh, I tend to have a hard time being gentle”

There’s a quiet laugh as Dipper takes it from him. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan”, he says with a smile, and Stan ruffles his hair as he sits back down beside him.

“Yeah, well don’t go telling anyone that I’m going soft. I owe too many people too much money for word to get around that I’m a good guy, or something”

Dipper stares blankly at him for a moment, like he’s trying to decide if he’s joking or if he means that statement completely seriously, but then he rolls his eyes as he wipes the cut clean. Once he’s sure that he’s finished, he holds his elbow up towards Stan so he can check to see how it looks. It’s bigger than Stan expected it to be, but he’s relieved that it doesn’t seem very deep. He takes a tube of triple antibiotic ointment from the first aid kit, and squints as a shaky hand moves to keep Dipper’s arm still.

“Alright, this is gonna sting a lot while I rub this stuff all over the cut, but I’m gonna need you to stay still.” With his free hand, he grabs for the miniature box of bandages and offers it to Dipper. “Take one of these. I’m gonna need you to put it on while I check over everything else”.

Dipper doesn’t reply with anything other than a nod of acknowledgement, though the look in his eyes is something reaching admiration. Stan can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips at the sight.

Once that’s taken care of, he gives the kid a one-over to make sure his other injuries don’t need as much attention. He still doesn’t know what the kid’s been up to all day, but if his brother’s first journal is anything to go by then he knows there’s no such thing as being too careful. He doesn’t look like he encountered any huge monsters, as there doesn’t seem to be any significant bite marks anywhere on his skin, and Stan’s relieved to find that the majority of Dipper’s scratches are already in the process of fading.

Just to be safe, for the scratches around his cheeks that had gathered small patches of dirt, Stan dabs a gauze into the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and gently wipes at the scratches with it until the dirt clears away. Without standing from his chair he tosses the gauze towards the trash can, but it bounces off the rim and lands to the floor beside it.

Dipper snorts in barely-contained laughter, and the sound of it has Stan smiling again.

“See? Good as new” Stan says, gesturing vaguely towards Dipper. He blushes, smiling towards the floor, before he stands from his chair and rushes forward to give Stan a hug that’s over as quick as it starts.

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan”, he murmurs, and he’s running towards the staircase before Stan’s even finished processing the hug. He’s just about to reach the top of the staircase when something finally comes to Stan, and he rushes towards the stairs just before his nephew can disappear around the corner.

“Hey, Dipper?”

He stops. “Yeah?”

“Just…” Stan taps at the hand railing with his fingers. “Just promise me you and your sister’ll try to stay safe, okay?”

There’s a moment of hesitation, but eventually Dipper nods his head. “I promise”.

#gravity falls #my writing #stan pines #dipper pines #pines family #team brawn #stan & dipper bonding

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idkxwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Treacherous - Chapter 14

Author: idkhaylijah

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: alright guys, some angst for ya. We’re starting to come to the end! If you’d like to be alerted anytime I post a new chapter/new work, follow @idkhaylijahwrites and turn on post notifications :) Thank you for reading, and giving me feedback, it means a lot! <3

Chapter 13 - Masterlist

It had been three days. Three days since Matt's death, since she had come home. Three days since she really talked to Elijah or Dean.

They held a memorial for Matt in the woods. Stefan and Damon had taken care of covering up what had really happened, Sam helped bury the body, and they waited for their friends to come home. In any other moment, Y/N would have been overjoyed to be reunited with her friends, but in that moment, in those circumstances, she couldn't think of anything worse. How many times had she covered up the death of someone she loved? Over the years she had begun to lose count. Would her friends have a memorial in the woods for her, too?

Y/N had watched her friends break down over the loss, and still she stood numb. The only thing left inside of her was guilt and rage. It had been three days since she had seen or heard anything from Empusa. She hadn't even felt her. The quiet was unnerving, like the calm before a storm. The skies were growing darker, the wind picking up as something ominous came towards Mystic Falls. Something they seemingly couldn't stop, and she felt her moment draw closer, her time running out.

After the funeral, she was adamant that her friends needed to leave. They had argued and shouted, and after concocting a secret plan with Freya and Castiel to get them out, Y/N was left alone in her room, nothing but the sound of the rain outside keeping her company.

"I can handle it," Freya had agreed, leaving the room.

Castiel stood, his eyes haunted, and she instinctively knew that he knew. "Y/N..."

She shook her head. "Just promise me you won't let him do anything stupid?"

"Dean isn't just going to walk away..."

"I know," she sighed. "And I know I'm asking a lot, but please, Cas."

He nodded grimly, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She sat, perched on the edge of the bed with her back to the door. She rubbed at her shoulder, the stab wound stitched but sore. It would leave a nasty scar. Not that it matters, she thought, her mind drifting once again to her impending doom when she heard him come in.

"How are you holding up?" Dean asked, his boots heavy on the wooden floor.

She took a deep breath, standing and moving toward her dresser. "Fine," she said dismissively.

He let out a sad laugh at that, and she didn't need to see him to know his eyes were crinkling in the corners, frustrated amusement at her deflection, his lips pressing into a thin line. They were so much alike, sometimes. "Right," he said, nodding. "Y/N you're not fine. You've barely said two words to any of us, you've been shut up in your room as much as possible..."

She turned to face him. "I think I convinced Stefan and Damon to take the girls and help evacuate Mystic Falls. Gas leak, I think they're going with. Freya said she'll place a barrier along the border of town. Nothing supernatural will be able to come or go. So once they're out, they won't be able to come back in until this is all over. At least I'll know they're safe..."

Dean nodded. It was a good plan, the less people they had to worry about, the better. "Yea, Sam filled me in," he said. "We're gonna help get as many people cleared out of here as possible."

"FBI?" She asked casually.

He shrugged. "U.S. Marshals, I think." They stood in awkward silence for a moment - it was the most they had spoken since Matt's death - since their fight, really. He took in her appearance, beaten down and exhausted. He wondered if she had slept at all since they found Matt. He cleared his throat, offering her a polite smile. "Right, well, I should go, let you sleep..."

As he turned to leave she stopped him. "I'm sorry," she blurted.

He turned around as if to shrug off her apology, but when he saw the look in her eyes and the weight of her regret, he paused.

"About our fight...and Elijah, I mean," she took a deep breath, willing her pride to take a back seat for a moment. "I care about you, Dean, and I never wanted to hurt you." He said nothing, but his green eyes fixed on her. They stood in silence for a long moment, and she thought maybe he wouldn't say anything at all when he finally spoke.

"Do you love him?" There it was, the question he had been holding back for weeks. The one he felt like he had no right to ask - that he was pretty sure he didn't want to know the answer to. Even as it hung in the air he wished he could take it back. It was one thing to suspect it, but the idea of hearing the answer out loud felt like it could suffocate him right there.

She bit her lip. "Yes," she whispered. "I'll always love him."

There it was. All he needed to know. All he wished he could forget. He nodded, turning towards the door once more.

"But I love you, too..." the words rushed out urgently, stopping him in his tracks. She startled at her own confession, but there was no taking it back.

His hand lingered on the doorknob, his feet frozen in place.

She hadn't intended on telling him - she knew in the grand scheme of things, it didn't even matter, but she leaned into it, an inexplicable need to tell him. "And I know how fucked up and selfish that is," she continued. "I wish it was different, and I'm sorry, but I love you, too." She wasn't sure why she was telling him any of it, other than she felt like she had to. Like if she didn't tell him the truth she may explode.

"Don't," he said softly, slamming his eyes shut.

She shook her head and took a step toward him, her heart thumping, her voice shaking. "I love you, Dean Winchester. And I'm so sorry for that."

He turned, his eyes searching hers. His chest tightened when he saw just how heartbroken she looked, and he wanted to pull her into him, tell her it would all be alright, hold her until everything else faded away.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her, too.

"Please, say something..."

What little resolve he had began to fade at the sound of her voice, pleading and timid. "Y/N, I can't...I can't keep doing this."

She bit her lip, and nodded in understanding. "I know. I just needed you to know, and to tell you I'm sorry."

He swallowed, afraid to speak. He knew he should walk away. Maybe a better man would have. But Dean wasn't a better man, as much as he had wished he was. It wasn't enough, and maybe it never would be, but it was something.

And God, he needed to feel something other than the gaping hole in his chest.

He stepped towards her, holding onto every inch of her words, clinging to the fighting chance, the smallest possibility of them.

His hand cupped her face, and he nodded, his eyes boring into hers. He moved his hand, tangling his fingers in her hair and pressed his lips to her temple hard, breathing her in. "I know, sweetheart," he whispered into her hair. "I know."

She stifled a sob and gripped his wrist, like maybe if she held onto him she'd stop breaking into pieces.

"You gotta stop doing that," he sighed. He brought his free hand up, tracing his thumb along the dampness of her cheek. "I hate seeing you cry," he whispered.

She smiled sadly, but the tears continued their quiet assault. She nodded, her fingers intertwining with his. She studied them for a moment, the way their hands fit together. Dean's thumb rubbed along the side of her hand, and she realized that despite it all, she felt safe with him.

And she hated so much that she'd have to let it go, that this - them - would never be enough to save her. Her gaze flicked to his, wordlessly begging him to stay, unable to ask but unable to let go, and hating herself for it.

Like he often did, Dean understood her in her silence and found himself unable to deny her once again. "Come on," he pulled her along with him, leading her to the bed. He laid down on top of the covers, pulling her down to his chest.

She held onto him tightly, afraid he'd slip away from her, grateful that he was willing to stay when she had no right to ask. She buried her face in his chest, crying silently.

Dean just held her through it, pressing his lips to her hair, his fingers dancing along her arm and the rain tapping soothingly against the glass of the windows.

When she finally drifted off, and when he was sure she wouldn't hear him he kissed her temple. "I love you, too," he whispered.

*****

Y/N woke up the next morning to an empty bed. It shouldn't have surprised her, and she couldn't blame him. Still, it left a sinking feeling. She wasn't sure when Dean had snuck out, but as hurt as she felt, she was almost relieved she didn't have to face him in the daylight.

Not that there was much daylight. A glance out her window told her the storm clouds had yet to move on, and the rain had only picked up in intensity.

She rolled over to check her phone - it was early, but she could hear voices carrying up the stairs.

Today, she thought. She wasn't sure how she knew, but Empusa was close, and she had to end it. She tried not to linger on the implications of what this ending would mean for her. As far as she was concerned, this was just another hunt. It had to be.

So she'd treat it like any other hunt.

When she was dressed she made her way downstairs to find Sam at the kitchen table, looking handsome as ever in a navy blue suit. "Nice suit," she teased.

Sam smiled uncomfortably, raising his brows. "Yea," he chuckled. "Just had it lying around."

Y/N glanced around, searching before clearing her throat. "Where's Dean?" She asked in an attempt at nonchalance.

Sam offered her a half smile, his way of brushing past her awkwardness and pretending he wasn't painfully aware of Dean spending the night in her room before sneaking out in the early morning. "Coffee run, I think. Elijah called. We all agreed it's best if we make our move today."

"Well, I'm glad we all talked that over," she laced her tone with mild irritation.

Sam had the decency to look a little guilty, but he offered no apology. "Dean wanted to let you sleep," he explained. "Besides, do you really want to put this off any longer than we have to?"

She sighed, knowing he was right, but still not ready to face what that meant for herself. "Let me go change into something a little more professional and I can help you guys evacuate the rest of the town."

"Actually," he began. "It's just us on this one."

She huffed. "Are you kidding me?"

He shrugged sheepishly.

She was about to give him a piece of her mind when the front door opened, Dean strolling in with three coffees balancing precariously on a box of donuts, a bag of bagels hanging from his mouth. He kicked the door shut behind him, strolling into the kitchen as if he didn't notice her fuming.

"Morning sunshines," he said, tossing the bag onto the counter and passing out coffee. He wiped the rain off his suit jacket and ran a hand through his damp hair.

Y/N refused her cup, instead crossing her arms over her chest. "Why can't I go with you guys to evacuate?"

Dean didn't bat an eye, turning and flipping the lid to the donuts open. He narrowed his eyes at the assortment of sugary pastries, choosing his victim. He shoved a large bite of a particularly powdery donut into his mouth, his cheeks filling as he chewed. He mumbled incoherently, talking with his mouthful. " 'hey no ew. Yer siffin' it 'ow."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Was that english?" She snapped.

Sam hopped in reluctantly. "He said they know you, so you're sitting it out. He's got a point. You grew up in this town, Y/N. You won't pass as a U.S. Marshal. Let us take care of it."

She rolled her eyes. "So what am I supposed to do?"

Dean kept his eyes trained on her, irritation flickering behind the mossy green, ready to pick a fight, even with his mouth full.

"You're with me, Buffy."

Y/N turned to find Damon walking through the front door as if he owned the place, Stefan close behind him.

"We've got Witchy Klaus and Tweety Bird holding up a barrier around Mystic Falls as we speak. If Empusa is indeed here, she won't be able to cross the town border. In fact, if you're supernatural at all, you won't be getting in or out as of now, but you knew that already."

She raised her eyebrows. "What the hell are you doing here? You guys are supposed to be gone."

"You honestly didn't think we'd fall for that, did you? Though Elena, Bonnie and Caroline didn't even question crossing the border until it was too late. Well done," Damon smirked. "That's a play right out of the Damon Salvatore handbook."

Stefan offered her an apologetic smile, greeting her with a side hug. "We're just doing what's best for you, and there was no way we were going to leave you here alone."

She leaned into her best friend for a moment before reaching out and taking the coffee Dean had slid across to her. "What's best for me is to be included in these decisions. When were you going to fill me in?"

Dean was on his second donut when he cleared his throat.

"Calm down," Damon said. He shot Dean a look of disgust as he swiped the extra powder from his jacket and turned his attention back to Y/N. "Empusa wants you specifically. We keep you safe, and let her come, stab her with your little knife, and we're all on our way."

Dean shrugged, nodding in agreement. He didn't particularly like Damon, but at least they were on the same page. "You're hanging back with Damon and Elijah," he said coldly, not making eye contact with her. "Elijah said you've got a safe house, that's where you'll go. When Sam and I are done, we'll circle back."

Stefan nodded. "Klaus and Caroline are cutting off anything that comes our way from the south, and Bonnie and Elena will take the border to the west, try to minimize the amount of monsters headed our way...make the barrier easier to hold for Freya."

She sighed. It was a solid plan, she couldn't deny, but it still felt like she was being handled with kid gloves, which was irritating. She brushed it aside, sliding the donut box from Dean and stealing a chocolate glazed donut. "Well, since you clearly don't need me..." she trailed off as she picked her coffee up and retreated to her room.

The guys exchanged looks and Dean shrugged.

"I forgot how bitchy she is before she's caffeinated," Damon commented. They shot him a disapproving look and he rolled his eyes, moving over to the bourbon.

"Isn't it a little early for that?" Sam questioned.

Damon shot him a cocky smirk and continued to pour his glass. "After a century or so, time becomes relative."

"What my brother was trying to say," Stefan interrupted tactfully, "is that Y/N seems a little off. Everything okay?"

Sam pulled his lips tight, taking a step back as he glanced at his brother.

"Trouble in paradise?" Damon quipped.

Dean shifted in his seat. "What exactly is your role in all of this?" He snapped.

Damon stepped into Dean's space, who stood at his full height, not backing down. "Keeping your little warrior princess safe, while you're out playing good cop, bad cop."

"Guys..." Sam tried to interject the standoff.

"Damon," Stefan warned.

Damon eyed Dean up and down, sizing him up before taking a step back. "Elijah, my favorite Mikaelson..." The group turned their attention to the front door to find the Original standing in a pristine suit.

"Damon," he greeted. "My least favorite Salvatore. No offense, of course."

Damon gave a tight lipped smile. "None taken."

Dean threw his head back for a moment, taking a deep breath before turning his full attention to him. "Elijah...come on in," he said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

Elijah just smiled knowingly. "Well, seeing as technically this is still my house, I'd be happy to, Dean."

Yea, well, you owning this house is exactly how Empusa got in here last time, Dean thought to himself, but said nothing. His mind raced to catch up while he attempted to keep his face straight. He knew Elijah had spent time there. But he actively tried to ignore the fact that he had lived there, let alone had bought it with Y/N. Once again the jealous pang settled into his chest.

"So we should probably get going..." Sam started.

Dean nodded in agreement. "Let me just grab my tie..." he said, excusing himself and heading upstairs.

He hadn't needed his tie. It was rolled up in his pocket, but he needed to see her.

He found her in her room, headphones in, bopping her head silently to the music blaring in her ears. She did this often at the bunker before a hunt - claiming it cleared her head so she could focus. He waited a moment, memorizing her before knocking lightly on the door frame.

Y/N sat up, taking the earbuds out and wrapping them up around her phone. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry," she chuckled. "Just trying to get some adrenaline going."

Dean smiled. "No shame in that."

She glanced at her phone and stood from the bed. "Shouldn't you be going?"

He nodded and pulled out his tie. "Yea," he nodded and turned to the full length mirror, adjusting the tie. His eyes caught hers in the reflection.

She moved behind him then, her hands coming up to rest on his gently before pushing them aside, knotting it for him. "You snuck out on me."

He looked down and cleared his throat. "Thought you could use the sleep," he said lamely.

"Dean."

His eyes flicked back up to hers in the mirror and she saw right through him. "I'm no good at this, Y/N." He turned around so they were face to face and she took a step back. "I'm out of my element here. I don't know where we stand, or if I can give you all this," he waved his hands around the room, at the home she had built with Elijah. "You've got yourself an apple pie life here, Y/N, even if it is surrounded by fangs."

She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"I'll be honest with you, I don't get it. Giving all this up..." he shook his head in disbelief. "It doesn't make sense...but I won't question it, because it brought you to me. Maybe that makes me selfish, I don't know, and I don't care, because I think after a lifetime of nothing but loss I deserve to be a little selfish here." He clenched his jaw, his hand rubbing over the tear trailing down his cheek before taking a steadying breath. "Everything up until this point, all of the crap we've gone through, it brought you to me...even if it was only for a little while."

She furrowed her brows...he was saying goodbye.

"But I can't keep doing this, Y/N."

She nodded in understanding, wishing things could be different for them.

His hand caressed her face, his thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheek gently, coaxing her to look up again. "I can't share you with him," he breathed. "So let's just get through this hunt today, and then Sammy and I are gonna head home."

Her heart dropped, knowing what waited for her at the end of this hunt.

"I hope you come with us, because we need you." He pulled her into him, wrapping his free arm around her waist and kissing her forehead. "I need you," he whispered before pulling away again, heading for the door.

"Dean," she called after him. He turned and she launched herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck.

He returned the embrace, holding onto her tightly and rocking back so her feet didn't quite reach the ground. When he placed her back down she kissed him. It was simple and sweet, and they lingered for a moment, not wanting to pull away. When they parted he rested his forehead against hers.

"Let's go lovebirds!" Damon shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Dean groaned and Y/N sighed, still unmoving.

"I gotta go, baby," he whispered before dipping down and kissing her sweetly once more. His eyes lingered for a moment, his feet refusing to carry him from that spot - away from her.

She bit her lip, nodding and took a step back, away from his grasp. He smiled softly, his eyes crinkling in the corners but a hint of sadness behind them as he finally willed himself to leave her, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that told him it was goodbye.

*****

While Dean, Sam and Stefan cleared civilians out of Mystic Falls, Y/N had moved to a safe house that Elijah had insisted she had set up years ago. With Empusa ready to make her move it had been their best option, though Y/N had argued adamantly that she didn't need to hide, but fight.

It was a small property tucked away from the center of town that Y/N held the deed to - one she hadn't invited anyone into, not even Elijah. She had paid someone to stock it up with hunting supplies once, when the thought of coming back to Mystic Falls had briefly and foolishly crossed her mind. Still - you can never be too prepared, she thought, and she was grateful she had done so.

Y/N stood in the doorway of the cabin, an amused smirk on her lips.

"Oh you can't be serious," Damon rolled his eyes, side stepping Elijah and slamming straight into an invisible barrier.

"Elijah, would you like to come in?" Y/N asked, turning her attention to the Original with a soft smile.

His lips lifted up in an amused smirk as he nodded, casting a glance Damon's way before crossing the threshold. "Of course, thank you."

"Alright, very funny..." Damon remarked irritably.

Y/N had endured a painfully awkward morning with Damon and Elijah. She could only assume that they were both able to hear her conversation with Dean earlier, and the implications behind it. She was also aware that Damon thoroughly enjoyed pressing buttons at her expense in search of entertainment - especially in light of all the waiting around they seemed to be doing. He had spent the morning egging Elijah on, dropping suggestive comments about Dean to Y/N, and she was fed up.

"Damon," she sighed. "Would you like...to apologize?"

Damon glared at her. "We don't have time for games, Y/N. Invite me in."

She crossed her arms over her chest in defiance, standing her ground and waiting. Damon glanced at Elijah for help, but he simply placed his hands in his pocket, staring at Damon expectantly.

"All you have to do is say you're sorry," she said.

"For what?" Damon asked, exasperated.

She raised her brows as if it were obvious. "For being an ass..."

"I've always been an ass."

"Yea but -"

Y/N was cut off when Elijah stepped back out onto the porch. "Shhh."

"What?" She asked, unable to hear anything other than the rain, but Elijah held his hand up.

Damon turned, listening as well. "We've got company," he said, his voice low.

"Do you smell that?" Elijah asked quietly.

"Werewolf..." Damon confirmed. "But it's not a full moon?"

Y/N moved to step outside, but Elijah tucked her back behind him, backing her into the house. "Lycan."

"What's the difference?" Y/N hissed.

"Lycans, much like Niklaus, are not slaves to the moon..."

"Not to mention they're stronger, and smarter...unlike your brother." Damon added with annoyance.

Y/N rushed further into the house, pulling a floorboard in the bedroom up, revealing hunting gear. She came back, a shotgun loaded with silver bullets at the ready. "Let's go hunting," she said, cocking the gun.

Elijah pushed her back into the house once more. "Silver will hurt it, but not kill it."

"Well, we'll figure it out along the way," Y/N argued.

"Can we discuss this inside?" Damon asked, annoyed.

Y/N nodded, forgetting she hadn't invited Damon in yet. "Shit, sorry," she mumbled. "Damon, would you like..."

She was cut off by a sudden ambush of a humanoid wolf, standing to its full height on its hind legs. He was twice the size of a normal man, with unusual strength if the way he knocked Damon clear across the porch and smashing into a nearby tree was any indication.

He turned his face, his lip curling up to reveal razor sharp teeth as he snarled at Y/N and Elijah. He reached his long arm out towards her, his nails thick and sharp, like claws. Before he could reach them, Elijah had grabbed her and had rushed them both out the back door.

He placed Y/N down, turning to face the lycan who was stomping around the edges of the house after them. "Y/N, you need to run," he pleaded. He could tell by its movements that this was a hunt and one he was enjoying. Y/N glanced at Damon, who was struggling to stand. He followed her gaze, knowing her concern was for her friend. "I'll get Damon," he assured her. "Go, now!"

She nodded, trusting Elijah to take care of Damon, and darted away from them. Her boots crunched the leaves beneath her, and she turned when she heard a loud crack, as though something had been thrown with force. She sighed, considering her options, knowing Elijah had wanted her to run.

But it wasn't in her to run from a fight.

While Elijah distracted the lycan, she circled back around the front of the house. She could hear the struggling going on, so she moved lightly but quickly until she reached the shotgun she had dropped when Elijah rushed her out.

She hustled, drawing the lycan's attention toward her. She could tell Elijah was angry at her for not listening, his angry glare falling on her just long enough for the lycan to swing, knocking him off balance. She knew she'd only have one shot before he was back up, whisking her away and leaving Damon to fend for himself. She aimed and fired, the kickback of the gun slamming into her injured shoulder and causing her to wince. The pain shot through her arm into her fingers as she watched the lycan drop with a yelp. She sighed in relief, and lowered her gun, her shoulder protesting, when she heard Elijah call out.

The lycan was back on his feet, lunging towards her. He slammed into her, and she dropped to the ground, the dampness from the rain seeping through her clothes. His teeth snapped at her and his large claws caged her neck, holding her down as she pressed up, using all her strength to hold his jaws away from her.

His breath was foul, and hot against her skin. Her muscles were on fire, and she felt her strength giving way, his jaws inching closer.

Suddenly and with a sickening tear the lycan dropped. She closed her eyes, turning her head away as he collapsed on top of her.

She shoved the body aside with a great deal of effort, looking up to find Elijah standing above her, a bloody spine in his hands and his chest heaving from the force.

"Not bad, Buffy." Damon quipped, clutching his side in pain.

She sat up, catching her breath as she offered Damon a lopsided grin.

Elijah offered his hand, helping her to her feet and cupping her face in his hands. "Are you alright?" He asked, brushing her wet hair back and taking stock of any injuries.

She nodded, shaking him off. "All good," she panted.

A roll of thunder echoed through the trees. He gripped the back of her elbow lightly, leading her into the house. "You do not leave my sight again, do you understand?"

"Elijah, I'm fine, really," she reassured him. He followed closely behind as she entered the cabin, and Y/N knew he was still worried. She sighed, turning to face him as she opened her mouth to insist she was okay, but the words died on her lips as she took in his appearance.

Droplets formed at the ends of his hair, soaked from the rain, and his hand was covered with blood. The sleeve of his suit was stained crimson - almost black - from the lycan's blood up to his elbow, the rest of the suit ruined by the storm. She glanced down at her own clothes, splattered with filth and the tell tale sign of a hunt.

But despite the state they were both in, what caught her off guard was the worry flooding his eyes. Elijah, who was always so calm and confident.

She stepped toward him and stroked his cheek gently. "I promise, I'm okay."

He nodded, his clean hand coming up to the back of her neck, pulling her in as he rested his forehead against hers. He focused on her breathing, her heart pumping steadily, the warmth of her skin, despite the chill of the rain. All signs she was alive and well. He let out a breath. "I can't lose you again," he whispered.

Before she could reply, Damon's voice cut through the moment. "We get it. You love her, she loves Dean...cute little love triangle going on that would make even the CW proud. But we don't have time for this, so for the love of God, Y/N, please invite me in."

She sighed, separating herself from Elijah. "Damon," she gritted her teeth in annoyance. "Would you like to come in?"

He gave her a devilish grin. "I thought you'd never ask," he winked as he stepped over the threshold.

They settled in, mostly in silence. Elijah cleaned himself up as Damon called to check in with Elena. Y/N kept her mouth shut when they began to argue - Elena presumably furious he had lied to get her out of Mystic Falls. Y/N couldn't judge, it had been her idea, after all. Besides, she'd done worse, and would do worse still, to keep those she loved safe.

Elijah returned, cleaned up as best as he could be, and took in the sight of her from the doorway of the bedroom. He said nothing for a moment, watching as Y/N made busy work with organizing the hunting gear she had brought with her, and the few things that had been stored at the cabin.

He knew Damon had been fishing for a reaction all day, as he so often did, but bit his tongue. Still - he let Damon's words from earlier dig at him despite his better judgement.

"She loves Dean."

He shook the thought away, coming up behind Y/N and reaching around, stilling her movements when he placed his hand on top of hers. She turned, their faces dangerously close.

"Leave it," he said softly.

She knew what he was saying. She didn't need to bother with her gear, because she wouldn't be fighting today. Her eyes flicked to his lips involuntarily. "I can't just stand back," she said, her tongue darting out to lick her own lips. "I have a job to do."

"Your job is to stay alive," he reminded her.

Elijah took another deep breath as he stepped away from her, her silence deafening. He placed his hand in his pocket and watched her for a moment, committing her to memory before clearing his throat and averting his gaze. "You've made your decision."

She bit her lip. "Elijah," she moved to comfort him and he took a slight step back.

"You're choosing Dean." It wasn't a question. His eyes studied her, searching for honesty, even if it wasn't what he had wanted to hear.

"It's not that simple..." She shook her head. "Elijah, I love you. Since the day that I met you, I have felt everything for you." Her eyes bore into his, and he knew she meant every word.

He held his breath, waiting for the inevitable.

"But I love Dean, too," she let the whispered words sink in for a moment, wishing they hadn't hurt. "I can't ignore that. When I left you...my whole world fell apart. I spent so long trying to forget you. I thought maybe if I drank enough, or hunted enough...that maybe one day I'd figure out how to even think about you without it ripping my heart out..." she trailed off, searching for words to make him understand. Because she needed him to understand. "I was drowning. I kept wondering when I'd breathe again, and then Dean was there. I was so lost without you...and he found me. I wish I could tell you that things weren't complicated, that I didn't have feelings for him, or that I could just turn them off so I could stop hurting you both."

He had known it was coming, but it hadn't lessened the blow. His heart shattered and he wondered if this was what death really felt like - like gasping for air, his heart burning before giving out, the pain unbearable until it all fell away because nothing was left but darkness.

"Earlier you said you couldn't lose me again..."

He kept his eyes trained on her despite everything in his body telling him to walk away, because he needed to hear her say it.

"And I know you mean it," she continued. "With everything happening...you'd do anything to keep me safe..."

He nodded. "Nothing would ever change that. I made a promise to keep you safe, always and forever."

She moved into him, placing her free hand on his chest. His own hand came to rest on hers, his fingers gripping onto her as if he could hold her to him forever. "I know. You'd die for me."

He knitted his brows together, unsure where she was going or why it was even a question.

"I can't lose you again either, Elijah."

He shook his head and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as hope filled him, seeping into the cracks of his shattered heart. "You'll never lose me," he said, pressing his lips against her head urgently, as if he'd never get the chance to hold her again.

She let him envelop her, feeling safe in his arms. Part of her wished she could stay there, make herself a home wrapped up in him.

But another part of her belonged to Dean in a way she couldn't explain.

She breathed him in, steadying herself for what she had to do, reminding herself that she'd do anything to keep him safe, too.

She held onto that notion as she pulled back to look at him once more. She stroked his jawline tenderly. "Elijah, I love you," she whispered. "Always and forever. But I need you to promise me something."

His eyes searched hers eagerly, desperately even. "Anything."

"I need you to let me go."

Before he could protest, he felt the sharp stab of betrayal. Searing pain ripped through him before he began to go cold. He looked down to find a dagger, dipped in the ash of the white oak, pressing into his heart, her hand gripping the hilt.

His eyes sought hers slowly as he felt the life draining from his body, the realization that she had no intention of surviving dawning on him, tearing through his heart in a way he had never felt before, leaving him completely hopeless.

Her eyes glistened with tears. "I'm so sorry," she whispered before his world went black.

Y/N struggled to lay him down gently as his body sagged in her arm. She knelt beside him, brushing his hair back. "Forgive me," she whispered before standing and wiping her eyes.

"You did what you had to do," Damon said softly from the doorway.

She knew he was right. She couldn't risk Elijah dying trying to keep her safe, and there was no way Elijah would have stepped aside so she could sacrifice herself for him or anyone else. She knew Damon of all people would understand, which is why she had asked him for the dagger in the first place - why she didn't need to beg him to compel her to be brave enough to do it when the time came.

"When this is all over, I'll wake him up," he promised.

She turned and nodded solemnly. "Tell him for me? Tell him how sorry I am, and that I love him."

Damon offered her a sad smile and nodded. "Come on," he held his arm out, and when she walked towards him he wrapped it around her. "Let's go."

She didn't turn back to look at Elijah for fear of breaking her own heart beyond repair. She couldn't afford it. Instead, she rolled her shoulders back and marched forward, focused on the task at hand.

*****

Stefan knelt over the corpse before him. "Lycan," he stated.

Sam raised his brows, stamping down his curiosity. He had of course read about them, but never encountered one himself - at least not a pureblood.

"Great," Dean mumbled. "So where the hell is she?"

They stepped up to the cabin, the Winchesters stepping through the doorway cautiously. Stefan lingered, listening, but hearing no sign of life from inside. He waited, unable to cross the threshold, to see what they'd find.

"Dammit!" Dean's voice boomed from within the cabin.

The brothers stormed back out onto the porch, and Stefan knew it could only be bad news. "Where are they?"

Dean had his phone pressed to his ear, hanging up in frustration. "She's not answering..."

Stefan pulled his phone out and dialed Damon, but it went straight to voicemail. "Neither is Damon..."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Where would they have gone?" Sam asked.

It didn't take Dean long to put the pieces together. The second he saw Elijah's body, daggered and dead, he had known. "She's on a goddamn suicide mission."

102 notes · View notes

guigz1-coldwar · 3 years ago

Text

'One bullet' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

'One bullet'

"Sometimes, I just want to be in an peaceful place with only you and no more work to stress us for good !"

Chapter Summary : After having an talk with Lazar's vision, Yirina is finally feeling determined to avenge her fallen friend and face Naga.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3600

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Lazar...He is far more different than Adler and when I saw him even if it was only an vision, I know that I could have an better talk with him, knowing that his words towards me will bring me some kind of hope I'm trying to find in myself since the crash, something that's giving an chance to give Garrett the retribution to kill every man serving under Naga's cartel and every Perseus soldier also protecting him. Our discussion couldn't last too many time and it was in an bit of sadness to see Lazar vanish in front of my eyes before I could reconcentrate myself.

Before actually leaving the place to get myself deeper in the jungle, I have to check the map to see where the house was and what direction I needed to take to get to Naga's HQ without trying to make too much noises along the way as we were close to Naga and I was alone without any means to contact the others. With that in mind and after finishing to check the map, I was in my way to get to Naga's HQ, ready to find Adler & avenge Garrett above all, it has to be done.

During my walk through the jungle on an little dirt path that was indicated on the map, I was wondering if the radio I stoled from the first patrol that wanted to check the crash, was going to emit at one moment, been shut down since I taunted Naga himself over it in an moment of rage. I have maybe blow out an chance to know more about what are Naga's moves in the area but I will now know as I was arriving next to his HQ.

"Shit, an sniper's nest." I whispered to myself as I was arriving at the end of the dirt path, marked on the map that was actually leading to an little place guarded by an sniper. "Gotta use my knife." I took out my knife of my boot, slowly advancing to get behind the guy and then, I moved to stab right in the neck side, getting my left hand on his mouth.

"Mmfff..." His voice was hopefully muffled by my hand, avoiding him to scream and to reveal to his friends that someone was getting killed. When his body went limp, I quickly get on the ground before getting to cover.

This little nest based on an little hill for that guy was in fact, overlooking the entrance of Naga's HQ and finally able to discover more about who was awaiting me & the others. Now, it was mostly Perseus soldiers that we were going to face, meaning that it was this place Adler was to be. But with those new pieces of informations, I couldn't risk to make an solo attack on that place. Even filled with rage, it's suicide to do this. I have to wait the others but when they will be here ?

"Patrol, it's been an hour that your radio went off." An voice said through the stolen radio I had with me, breaking the long silence from it and this voice...it was Naga. "Patrol, did you check if any survivors was there at the crash ?" He demanded again, apparently forgetting that someone else did respond to him an hour earlier.

"No one survived." I started, speaking at the dead guys place, making my voice clear to him while I was staying out of sight of the entrance. "Your guys are dead, Naga." I added.

"Who is this ?" He asked, sounding confused to hear an stranger's voice, he must have forgetten my taunt.

"Someone that you pissed off too much." I replied, my eyes focused on the dirth path I arrived in.

"Ah, you must be one of the survivors of that crash." He said, sounding like he had an revelation in his head. "How was that little fall ? We didn't see too much from my camp." He scoffed and I wasn't laughing at all, nothing came out of my mouth.

"I lost an friend." I breathed, blinking with my eyes, seeing that scene again. "Do you think it's funny ?" I questioned in an serious voice.

"In fact, it's not everyday that you brought down an Huey." He told me as I quickly look towards the base entrance, trying to find if the others were there.

"You always has been like that, Naga ?" I asked him rhetorically, remembering the memory I had when I met the guy. "Without an heart ? Merciless ? Brutal ?"

"Been an warlord isn't an line of work to have emotions." He decided to give me an answer anyway. "You know, I think you're all coming from your CIA friend....Russell Adler, I believe." He continued, almost sounding funny in his voice. "I'm afraid that...you are too late."

"Meaning ?" I whispered.

"Well, you have to come to my base to see." He replied, his voice clearly saying that my attempt to know more was useless "There's something that is maybe interesting you here....an little smell from the past." He joked at the end, hearing an laugh through the radio. Why is he telling me all of this ? Do he know that I was alone ?

"You're out of your mind." I said, giving my thoughts on that man, honestly.

"Wait !" He called me an bit loud, sounding to have something in his mind. "Your voice, it's sounding...familiar." He added before hearing him sort of getting up from an chair. "Ah...so, you're our Yirina Grigoriev but I think that people around you is calling you 'Bell', is that correct ?" He demanded, knowing that he was talking to 'Bell'

"That is correct." I responded, 'Bell' is the one talking right now. "Naga, you're going to release my friend or I will personally make sure that you and all your men will suffer." I threatened him in an dark voice, also giving me pain to still call Adler an friend.

"You aren't believing those words but it seems that Adler did really messed you up." He exclaimed, an noise of surprise in his voice.

"I don't know what you are talking about." I expressed, fainting to not know anything.

"Well, you will soon find out." He affirmed in an serious tone. "To make you know, you're the first person I will not personally have my hands around their necks." He admitted to me, making some noises through his radio. "You're our Queen of Hearts alongside the MI6 agent, Helen Park." I wasn't seeing him from my position but his words meaned that he was looking to the playing cards representing me & Park.

"To be captured alive." I whispered. "Yes, I saw them too." I continued, thinking that he was maybe looking surprised on his side.

"So, you learned that Perseus has ordered everyone to put their hands on you and that MI6 agent but instead, you decided to be on the field." He wondered to me

"Why we were going to hide ?" I demanded rhetorically. "I'm not intending to hide, Naga...I will find you and I will kill you." I confessed, putting all my fear in that threat to him.

"We'll see about this, you're probably still trying to find your way in here alone, it's going to be long." He said, not thinking at one second that I was having my eyes on his camp. "We'll be the firsts to capture you and before that, your friends will suffer another fate." He added. "Stitch will...."

"Sir !" Another voice came through his radio, cutting him and surprising me in place. "We spot the CIA strike team, they're almost at 200 m from the entrance." Those words caused me to quickly check the nest, finding some binoculars near the dead sniper before looking away from the entrance. They were all here : Park, Woods, Song, Sims, Wolf, Rivas along with others survivors from the latter team.

"Shit !" I muttered at their sight, mixed between been happy to see them after all these times but also because they were going into an trap.

"I'm sorry but I will be busy to cut the skins of your friends and hang them on the trees." Naga taunted me again. "Bye bye !" He added before the radio went off completely.

I couldn't stay useless here, only watching the others getting trapped by Naga's men at the entrance. Just after the radio went off, I could see that they were preparing to ambush the others, getting in cover and opening widely the gates that are leading inside the camp. I needed to do something and since I was in an sniper nest, I should prevent the others that they were walking straight into Naga's trap.

I quickly moved to grab the SVD Dragunov the dead sniper was using before getting in position, switching between looking at where Park and the team were walking and the entrance, trying to find if anyone was going to make an move and everyone was basically in their nerves about what will happen...including me. Everything can happen at the moment this ambush will occur but, it doesn't need to have an ambush....

With an thought crossing through my mind, I couldn't let the occasion for Perseus soldiers to attack first, meaning that I will attack first. I took an deep breath, staying steady to stabilize the Dragunov and then, I pulled the trigger. The first bullet I shot flied to hit an Perseus soldier that was hiding behind an wall with his friends and seeing him getting hit send an moment of panick in the soldiers. I took an few seconds to check Park and the team, seeing them running towards the entrance.

Once I was done, I resumed to fire with the Dragunov towards the numerous enemies that was keeping the entrance before the real gunfight began, starting the fight to get Naga for real. At my position, I was providing cover to the team below me but after an few moments, I saw through the scope of the sniper rifle that an RPG was aiming at my position and when I tried to shoot him, the sniper rifle ran out of bullets....shit !

It took me an second to react and the only thing I could do was to jump off from the sniper nest, not forgetting to grab my AK-47 to get down before the rocket hit my former position. I found myself to slide on the cliff, trying to not hurt myself before I was finally at the same level about the others, quickly moving to get to them in cover.

"Hey, Yirina !" Woods exclaimed, surprised to see me as I was now in cover with him, Park & Song while Sims, Wolf & Rivas were in another cover at a few meters from us with some of Rivas's men. "Shit, you've been through hell, it seems." He stated, looking at my clothes.

"I know." I whispered, after getting myself fully in cover next to him.

"Yiri, I'm been worried." Park said, going back into cover, her eyes true to her words.

"We've been trying to contact you but you weren't responding at all." Song expressed before firying some bullets from her XM4, killing some guys in the process. "What happened ?" She asked suddenly worried, returning in cover.

"Shit...I don't know but it seems that Naga was able to see through that our helicopter was something belonging to us." I replied, focused on also blasting with my gun to provide some cover to allow Sims, Wolf & Rivas to advance an little to another protection. "We've been hit by an RPG and we crashed....an hour ago." I added, closing my eyes after getting to cover again.

"And...and where's Garrett ?" Park questioned me and it caused me to look down, my eyes still closed.

"He...he's dead, Park." I responded, feeling the pain of telling them where's Garrett now and in an instant, I could see the pain on their faces, their eyes going wide and Song at the urge of crying while Park was speechless and in the same state as Song.

"It's...no....it can't be possible." Song breathed loudly after hearing me, getting her hands off her gun, dropping it on the ground.

"I'm sorry..." I told both in an very low voice.

"Damnit." Woods chuckled, mixed between shooting with his XM4 and listening to us, he was also feeling bad.

"He...." I stopped myself, starting to hear his voice again, telling me to kill Naga with the bullet I did make before leaving to get here and it was not by staying in that cover that I was going to do it. So, I reloaded my AK-47 and then, I suddenly jump out of cover, having spot during my suppressing fire an way to maybe get to Naga rapidly.

"Yirina !" I heard Park shout as I was running to get to the way I saw before : an entrance inside an house at the left of where Sims, Wolf & Rivas were located.

I passed in front of them before arriving into safety inside the house that was more looking an armory but I wasn't really in safety as there were an Perseus soldier in it, firying through an window. We both met eyes and I made the first move, literally throwing my own AK-47 to his face before starting to run over him to try to stab him but he managed to block my attempt with his right hand but since I wasn't able to stab, I took out my M1911 to shot at him in the chest two times before finishing him off with an bullet in the head.

At this moment, another door from the house at a few meters from me was force opened by an Perseus soldier, I tried to quickly shoot him but in fact, my M1911 was out of bullets, not having reload it after that attack that killed this 'Swift'. I was then going to throw an knife at him before someone fire multiples bullets in his direction, killing him and discovering Sims with his M60 in hands.

"For fuck sake, Yirina..." He said, putting himself in cover as I was moving to get to the broken door. "You almost got yourself killed."

"And ?" I asked him, grabbing back my AK-47 in hand that I threw to the first guy. "You're striking them from the front, I'm taking Naga." I explained to him.

"It's too risky, we need to...."

"Maybe but isn't our line of work ?" I cut him straight like that, blinded by my rage to finish off Naga. "He killed Garrett but I will be the one to kill."

"Yirina, I can't let you do this." He exclaimed, sounding sure of his words.

"He got Adler and you want me to let him live ?" I questioned him, finally moving to get in cover next to the broken door in case there were someone. "Don't follow me and don't try anything, Sims." I ordered before he resign himself to let me walk away as he was reloading his M60 before going out.

"Give me back Adler !" He screamed, along with his M60 as he was going out of his cover from the house, leaving me alone.

Surprisely, the little yard that was separing me from an sort of old temple was empty of enemies, maybe all focused to battle with the others, leaving me alone to get myself prepared to face Naga himself, maybe awaiting for his men to do the job for him but knowing Park and the others, he will wait very long and it's sure that he isn't going to wait long until I put the engraved bullet into his mad brain....for Garrett.

Despite facing no resistance from Perseus soldiers, I quickly move towards the yard to enter that old temple but it wasn't the main entrance of it and of course, I continued my advance inside of it, discovering an lot of gold bars stored here....like that. What all of these things are doing here ? I didn't let myself distracted until I arrived in an sort of main room with an sort of fountain in the middle but then....

"AAAAH !" A sort of war cry came inside the room, discovering Naga charging me with an knife, dressed in the same clothes that he was wearing in my memory. "Die !" He shouted again before I could avoid that strike from him.

"You're first !" I exclaimed towards him, taking out of my knife from my boot.

"Oh, here's our 'Winter Soldier'." Naga said, discovering me in person again, saying that stupid nickname linked to me. "I'm sorry to dissappoint you but your friend Adler...isn't here ! I can say that you & me, we're the same." He added as we both started to turn around each other, pointing to each other with our knife.

"So, it was an trap ?" I snorted.

"And of course, you all fall in it." He scoffed, sounding happy of having us in here. "You know what ? Enough of the talk and...fuck Perseus's orders." He looked at his knife before having his eyes hidden by his sunglasses looking at me. "I'm going to enjoy killing you slowly." He then start to attack first with his knife.

He directly tried to make an swing with his knife but I step back, avoiding the blade of it to touch me, not even making an cut through my clothes. However, he took the advantage that I wasn't attacking to charge me again, throwing himself against me and smashing my back against the stoned wall of the temple. He continued by kicking me in the chest with his knee before throwing me next to the fountain, still making sure that I wasn't going to make an move.

"Let's see how much time you will hold your breath." He taunted me before he grabbed my head to put it in the fountain, trying to drow me. I couldn't do an thing while he was having his left hand on my neck and the other controlling my hands, making me impossible to move before he removed my head from the fountain. "You know what ? Before killing you and after killing your friends, I will surely have an big taste on what's inside those clothes."

"Go fuck yourself !" I shouted, catching back my breath.

"Shut up, little slut !" He cursed, making my head going back inside that fountain but when he put my head inside, I could hear Garrett's voice again....'Kill him'....'Kill him'....and it did gave me more strenght as he pull me out of the water. "So, you're going be my favorite whore and all my men will certainely have an chance to see how much you'll begging before you plead me to end you." He scoffed, sounding certain to have win.

"In your fucking dreams !" I exclaimed, moving my legs to kick him in the waist, breaking his control over me and allowing me to grab back my knife that I dropped after he smashed me against the wall.

At this moment, I took the occasion that he was still trying to get up from my kicks that I approached him rapidly, making an single swing towards his left hand and I managed to cut off his left hand, making it drop in the ground before I start to punch Naga in the face multiples times as he was on the ground, breaking off his sunglasses, removing his green hood to discover his face and it didn't stop me to continue my moves.

I finally stopped to punch him, letting him to bleed, leaned against the fountain on the ground, breathing anormally after my numerous punches against him. Me, I was taking out the empty mag of my M1911 to insert the engraved bullet in it.

"You & I, we're not the same." I told him, inserting the bullet in the mag while looking at him, it was the words he used before our fight. "I'm not like you." I affirmed, loading the mag back into my M1911. "His name was Garrett Donovan." I added, aiming my gun towards Naga's badly hitten head.

"Yirina !" An male voice came in and I saw Woods with Park, Song & Sims. I wasn't paying attention at outside that the fighting was done. "Don't do it !" He ordered, making me look at him with an deadly glare.

"And why that ?" I demanded from him, my voice cracking. "He killed Garrett, why I would let him live ?" I said, looking at Park & Song that was still sad about that news, they were looking to be with me, wanting me to shoot that piece of shit on the ground.

"We got orders, Yirina." Sims called me out but I wasn't looking at him, focused on seeing Naga. "He might be useful for us to have intels of where's Adler ?" He added, trying to convince me of that.

"And you really think that his fucking shithead will help us ?" I shouted, angry.

"Yirina, if you shoot, we will have no chances." Woods joined Sims in his argument as Park & Song were staying silent, feeling that they wanted to shoot Naga too, hoping to have me do it. "Please, lower the gun." He suggested again, slowly approaching me to grab my gun away from me.

"I...I..." I started, getting confused inside of me about shooting him or not but I had to shoot him...for Garrett. "AAAH....Fuck !" I screamed, angrily lowering my gun, realizing that I wasn't going to shot Naga like when I wasn't able to shot Adler's vision. I couldn't look anyone in the eyes as I was having some tears coming from mine, starting to walk towards the path I came in here.....

"Leave me....I just need to be alone....I fucked up, Garrett !"

#cod bocw #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cw #call of duty cold war #cod #call of duty #cod bell #black ops cold war #yirina grigoriev #fem!bell #helen park

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carrisarune · 4 years ago

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In Your Eyes

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Note: Continuing on the train and seeing where this goes. Just churning these out as soon as I finish and will edit as I go along

Tags: @jamespotterthefirst @schnitzelbutterfingers

CHAPTER 3: FRIENDSHIP, LIQUID COURAGE, AND PANIC

The minute Rai saw that his shift had ended, he wanted to cry in relief. He quickly went over to the atrium to meet with Sienna and finds her dressed in her casual clothes and waiting. She smiles upon seeing him, “Hey! You survived! Ready to hit the bar?” she asked. “More than ready” Rai enthused, “Great outfit by the way” admiring the denim jacket and red shirt ensemble she had on. When Sienna asked him if he had anything to wear at the bar, and even mentioned Dr. Ramsey frequented there, Rai felt his cheeks flush. He still felt a tad embarrassed that he nearly blew his top at the man, but a drink would be real nice at the moment.

As he heard Jackie call for them and Bryce declaring the first round was on him, Rai made a dash to change clothes. Looking through what he had in his locker, he changed into a sleeveless emerald hoodie and form fitting black pants. A quick tie of his combat boots had him ready and stepping out to meet the others once more. At the sight of him, Sienna gives a wolf whistle, “I hope you’re single, because you are going to clean up tonight!” causing Rai to flush.

“Well, if you happen to find anyone interested in a gay doctor, you might have to give me a shove” he joked. Seeing Bryce about to speak up, he pointed at the man, “Sorry there Fabio, but incorrigible flirts ain’t my type, so might as well mosey on” his words causing the girls to snort. Hand on his chest in mock pain, Bryce cried, “You wound me Rai! I thought we had a moment earlier.”

In response, Rai gave a laugh and went over to Bryce to swing an arm around his shoulders. “You’ll recover, in the best case scenario, we’ll be each other’s wingman, now come on, I’ve been craving a cocktail all day” he urged. With the group leaving in laughter, they soon reached the bar.

Donahue’s was exactly as Rai expected a bar frequented by medical help to be; dark, dingy, and completely packed. Thankfully, Sienna seemed to know her way through the crowd and led them to where Landry and Elijah had commandeered a booth. Landry looked anxious as he cried, “Come on! There’s still… sixty seven seconds left in happy hour!” to which Elijah waved the worry away by stating they were all in debt anyway.

“I’ll toast to that!” Jackie declared, “And relax, Landry, I put in quite a few orders before the buzzer” pointing out a waitress bringing in a tray packed to the brim with tequila shots.

Rai blinked at the sight while Sienna exclaimed, “You want to start with tequila?” Jackie shrugged, “Start, finish, and everything in between” she responded. Everyone grabbed a shot glass and after toasting to finishing their first shift, took it. For a lack of a better word, the stuff was strong. When the next toast was to new friends, Rai grinned and gave Elijah a fist bump then Sienna a side hug.

He started when he was asked to make a toast and paused to think. Then, giving a grin he declared, “To becoming amazing doctors and a bright future!” and everyone gave a cheer before taking the shot.

Elijah then announces a need to dance and moved to the jukebox while Sienna and Rai stepped out of the booth to let Jackie out. Landry on the other hand, had stated a need for a water break much to Jackie’s teasing. Rai had taken a seat once more to order a cocktail when he noticed Landry staring at the bar. Following his gaze, he spots a pretty girl at the end. “She’s cute! You should go talk to her” Rai encouraged, but Landry shot the suggestion down, saying how he wasn’t good with flirting.

Even with Rai offering to be a wingman, Landry turned it down. Shrugging at his reluctance and offering one last encouragement, Rai stepped out of the booth. Just as he did, he felt a sharp pain in his ribs as a sneering frat guy forces his way to the bar. Sienna, who spotted the encounter, yelled, “Hey! You just ran over my friend!” in indignance. If possible, the guy’s sneer deepened, “So?” he asked with a raised brow.

This only made Sienna angrier as she exclaimed, “So apologize! Or were you raised somewhere where they don’t teach manners?” Seeing Sienna riled up and the guy not willing to back down, Rai quickly stepped up. He turned to the man, and suddenly, it was as if the room’s temperature dropped. A sharp smile had painted over Rai as he unknowingly gazed at the man with the same icy gaze he did Dr. Ramsey earlier. “It’s alright, it was just a misunderstanding and I’m sure you’ll be careful next time, right?” while his words were pleasant, the look in Rai’s eyes were anything but.

The man gave a gulp as a shiver ran through him. He quickly nodded, then with a gruff apology, scurried away. Sienna gazed at Rai with wide eyes, “Woah, you gotta teach me that; you made being nice so scary” she enthused and Rai gave a laugh. He was about to speak up when a Marvin Gaye slow jam plays from the jukebox. “Now we’re talking! To everyone in the bar, you’re welcome” Elijah called with a grin.

Jackie turned to Rai and invited him to dance. He was about to accept when he hears Bryce call him over for a game of darts with a crew of rowdy surgical interns. As he gave a wave, he spotted Dr. Ramsey peacefully drinking in a secluded corner of the bar. When he looked up and their eyes met, Rai could feel the back of his neck turn warm. Deciding to dance off his nervous energy, he joins Jackie on the dance floor where she is moving gracefully.

“Damn Jackie, should I get a stick to ward off anyone feeling grabby?” Rai joked before laughing as Jackie shoved him and told him to shut up. She then pulled him in to join her and he began swaying to the music. As they danced to the music, Jackie asked, “So, we’re cool over what happened today right?” and Rai titled his head at her in confusion. He shuffled his feet to the beat, “”What’s there to be upset about? I was the one who panicked like a goober, and the important thing is that Annie is okay and will live a long and healthy life” Rai responded with a shrug.

The two stared at each other for a moment before Jackie stated, “Oh god, I knew I wasn’t going to like you” her words causing Rai to pause and blink in confusion. Jackie rolled her eyes as he saw the male’s confusion.

“You’re a do-gooder. Add that to what I already know…”

“Wait what”

“Which is?”

“You’re smart… you’re actually good under pressure… and you’re basically a puppy”

Stepping close to him, she smooshed his cheeks in her hands, “A. puppy'' she intoned, “All yappy and peppy, basically the worst! I just don’t know what to do with you” she sighed before giving his cheeks one last smoosh then ruffling his hair. “Sorry?” Rai offered in confusion and Jackie gave an amused huff before urging him to dance once more. Rai danced to one more song before grabbing the cocktail he ordered and heading over to Bryce and the group of surgeons.

The surgical intern grinned as he spotted him coming over. When he introduced Rai to the others as the only good medical intern, Rai gave a mock gasp, “Bryce how dare you forget the delights that are Sienna and Elijah!” His words caused Bryce to laugh before he asked if Rai was thinking of switching teams. In response Rai simply raised his pointer fingers to make an X and playfully stuck out his tongue.

Once again, Bryce donned a mock look of pain, “Is it your goal to constantly hurt me Hayashi? Cause it’s working” he dramatically mourned. “Oh please, we all know my words are pokes at best” Rai retorted before escaping an attempted noogie from the male. Bryce huffed before a cheshire grin crossed his face, “Well, since you’re here to play, why not make things interesting?” he offered. Rai gave an answering smirk, “Winner buys the other’s team round?” he wagered.

The two shook on it and upon announcing the wager, the two groups cheered. It was a close game and soon the two were tied. Both were on the last dart and as Rai was taking aim, Bryce was clearly trying to distract him by whispering goads. Rolling his eyes, Rai ignored him and managed to make a good shot. The surgical interns groaned at the sight of it while Bryce commended him. As Bryce was setting up for his shot, an idea popped in Rai’s head and he gave a mischievous grin.

Moving close to his ear, Rai softly cleared his throat then, “Better be careful friend, those darts are mighty sharp” he stated in his Kermit the Frog voice. “W-what the fuck” Bryce spluttered in laughter as he made his shot. The dart flew through the air before haphazardly sticking to the outer rim of the board. While the surgical interns groaned at Bryce’s loss, the man turned to Rai, still spluttering in laughter.

Grasping Rai’s shoulder he slowly stopped laughing and asked, “Was that what I think he was?” taking a breath as he did. Rai grinned then, tilting his head slightly, spoke, “Meega, nala kweesta!” in Stitch’s voice, even going as far as adding the famous laugh. At that, Bryce went into another laughing fit, spluttering how surprising Rai could be. “Don’t you owe me and my friends a round?” Rai reminded as Bryce caught his breath once more. Once Bryce calmed down, he called for drinks for Rai and his friends and the group enjoyed a round.

While taking a sip of his drink, Rai finds his eyes straying to where Dr. Ramsey was. For what felt like forever, he internally debated with himself. Then, resolving himself, he took a deep gulp of liquid courage before placing down his glass. He whispered to Sienna, “Wish me luck” and only managed to hear a soft gasp before he was determinedly walking to the bar. He emtally chanted to be calm before taking a seat beside Dr. Ramsey.

An unreadable look was on the man’s face and Rai could only shyly ask, “Is something wrong Dr. Ramsey?” the man’s gaze making him feel warm and his wrist tingle. “Just noticing how… different you look out in the real word” he stated. Rai tried to fight his blush down when the bartender approached and asked for his order. Taking a glance at Dr. Ramsey’s empty glass, Rai confidently ordered, “Two scotches, neat.” The bartender was quick in serving the drinks and Rai slid one to Dr. Ramsey.

The moment the attending took the drink with a smile of approval, Rai had to fight down a grin.

After giving the drink a sniff, Dr. Ramsey asked, “Why neat instead of on the rocks” though Rai could hear a subtle challenge in his tone. “The ice changes the flavor” Rai answered before taking a sip to hide his smile when Dr. Ramsey confirmed his answer. But when he continued with, “You know I can’t be bribed into favoring you, right?”, Rai placed down the cup and looked at in embarrassment.

“Actually… this is more of an apology for nearly losing my temper with you earlier” Rai admitted, “I understood what you were doing but I… got emotional, I am grateful that you pushed me to do better today” flush spreading throughout his face. A beat of silence passed between the two before Dr. Ramsey signalled the bartender and order for ‘two specials’, surprising Rai when he called the bartender by name. Looking from the bartender to Dr. Ramsey, Rai asked, “You two old friends?”

Dr. Ramsey raised a brow in surprise, “What makes you say that?” he asked. Rai gave a shrug, “Only way bartenders allow you to call them by name is if you’re old friends, an overly frequent customer, or both” he stated matter-of-factly. The two’s eyes met, then, Dr. Ramsey revealed, “It’s both” and Rai hums. Before he could stop himself, Rai found himself asking if there was anyone waiting for Dr. Ramsey at home. As Rai mentally smacked himself with a cartoon hammer, Dr. Ramsey seemed to hesitate answering.

“I’ll come here even when I do. I need some buffer between the hospital and the world. An airlock” his intense blue eyes pierced into Rai as he solemnly stated, “Don’t take the job home with you, Rai.” Pinching himself to remind himself to breathe, Rai found himself blurting, “I’ll keep that in mind… but you didn’t answer my question” then mentally questioned HOW drunk he was. The moment Dr. Ramsey responded with a negative though, Rai quickly squashed any… untoward thoughts brought about from his drunkenness.

It was almost a relief when the two specials arrived. Rai quickly took a sip at Dr. Ramsey’s suggestion and licked his lips in delight. If he had a tail, it would be wagging as he exclaimed, “That’s amazing!” to Dr. Ramsey’s amusement. “Either you’re sucking up to me, or you’ve got surprisingly refined taste for an intern” he stated. Rai gave a grin and shrugged, “I’m full of surprises” he said and Dr. Ramsey countered, “You’ll have to prove that.”

Then, he holds up his glass and toasts, “To your intern year. In the hopes you don’t completely blow everything you worked your whole life for.’ This causes Rai to snort in laughter before he clinks their glasses together and finishes the drink. After thanking Dr. Ramsey for his time, he rejoined his friends for the next few hours. The group drank late into the night before they decided they had enough. With a round of water to help them in going home, Rai made a toast of gratitude to the new friends he met.

Though Jackie teased him by declaring him the sappy drunk of the group and Landry told him he could thank him by getting Dr. Ramsey to know his name, he felt a happy warmth. That is until they all stepped out and shared their living arrangement woes, especially when they had a shift in a few hours. Suddenly, Sienna gave the bright idea of them getting an apartment together. Rai was more than on board with the idea and the group agreed to make more plans tomorrow.

Just as Rai was heading home, he happened to glance down at his bracelet. Without warning, his mind decided to flash back to all the moments he had with Dr. Ramsey throughout the day. The moment he recalled his gaze in the bar and the warmth felt from sharing a drink with the man, Rai froze. “(Oh. Oh NO)” he cried in his mind, before scrambling off his stop and rushing home. Once inside his room he quickly opened up his chat with his best friend.

IPourtheTea: SOS o(*´д`*)o

ImTHATB: o.O did u stab someone?

IPourtheTea: ಠ_ಠ

IPourtheTea: What? No!

ImTHATB: Yea I thought it was too early, so is this high alert SOS or gay panic SOS?

ImTHATB: FINALLY! Tell mama all the deets bae OwO

IPourtheTea: One, not my mom. Two, I think Im into my boss

ImTHATB: Ooohh! New kink, congrats bby

IPourtheTea: Hannah this is serious! Im not supposed to be into my boss! HES MY BOSS. Not to mention one of the top and strictest attendings in the hospital. HED MURDER ME ヽ ( ꒪д꒪ )ﾉ

ImTHATB: Nice, hot boss with BDE. Ive taught u well

IPourtheTea: Hannah!!! ʕノ•ᴥ•ʔノ︵ ┻━┻ Just because he has intense blue eyes and a killer jawline plus a voice that could melt me ajfbjasbfkjs

ImTHATB has changed IPourtheTea’s name to BabyDoesGayPanic

BabyDoesGayPanic: NOT.HELPING!

ImTHATB: UwU

BabyDoesGayPanic: ajfbhjkasfhjkds

BabyDoesGayPanic has logged off

Groaning in frustration, Rai buried his face in his pillow and prayed things would calm down for him tomorrow

#open heart #m!mc #m!mc x ethan ramsey #oh fic #carrisa writes #still playing around with tags #in your eyes #no beta

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